My Beloved
by violette7
Summary: 17-year-old Brian lives by a different philosophy, but as strictly as canon!Brian: He wants a boyfriend, true love, and romance, but not the Hallmark kind. He wants something real, that is, 29-year-old Justin, an artist he encounters one fateful night.
1. The Most Beautiful Man in the World

I just saw the most beautiful man in the world. I'd gone down to Liberty Avenue, but I don't even know why. I wanted to be somebody's boyfriend, not their fuck toy, and the latter was about all a man could expect on Liberty Avenue. I'd seen a lot of pornos, and while they got me hard, they alone didn't do it for me. I was probably the freakiest 17-year-old boy in existence, but what got me the hardest, what inspired the most mind-blowing orgasms were fantasies about kissing, were fantasies about someone loving me beyond all reason and desiring me so much that he couldn't even speak. I wanted to be cherished and worshipped and to cherish and worship right back.

Maybe it was because my mom was a hooker. I'd been around prostitutes, of both sexes, my entire life. And from all that I'd seen, all men, gay or straight, could be persuaded to stray from their mates with the promise of a good blow job or sex with someone exotic looking. My mom's very livelihood depended on the truth that men were genetically coded to spread their seed around to as many partners as they could, that the familiar could never hold their interest. Granted, that biological imperative, if imperative it was, was somewhat anachronistic, at least since the advent of condoms, the genes pushing them to seek out more and new partners at every turn having become almost as vestigial, as useless as the appendix. The genes might still have an effect on the body, but not on the fate of the human race.

I wanted romance, but not that bullshit Hallmarky romance. I wanted someone to be so captivated by my body and even my soul that they were stunned into silence and inspired to draw or write poetry. I wanted everything, and I wanted it to be genuine. I wanted to be with a man who, like me, was not driven by any biological imperative. But I wondered. Did such a man exist? If so, was he gay? More importantly, where could I find him? Surely not on Liberty Avenue. Yet, every Friday night that's where I was, just looking around at all the men, meeting their eyes, desperately hoping to see something in them that transcended desire. Something like awe and maybe even a little fear.

Not surprisingly, that had never happened, might never happen. And it certainly had not yet happened tonight. I had seen the most beautiful man in the world. However, he had not seen me. Not yet. So…my greatest desire could still be realized. My body tensed in anticipation. He'd been leaning up against an alley wall, his pants pushed down to reveal his perfectly shaped 9-inch cock, which some blond twink had been sucking on like it was the best-tasting popsicle in the world. But however enthusiastically the twink worked the man's dick, I knew, I knew, I would give this man more pleasure, more pleasure than he'd ever known, if given the chance (even though I'd never even kissed anyone, let alone sucked a cock). Because the second I'd laid eyes on him, I knew with absolute certainty that he was made for me, that I loved him. He was considerably older than me and so perfect…We'd recently read about Plato's forms in school, abstract, perfect, representations of things in the real world and how seeing real-life 'objects' that approached perfection evoked these forms, drawing that person nearer to the heavens, causing the wings of his or her soul to flutter and grow. That's exactly what I experienced the moment I laid eyes on this man, debauched though he may have been at the moment, perhaps, in part, because he was.

His shirt was unbuttoned and open to reveal his perfectly sculpted torso. He was not muscled, but lean and strong. The smile that hung on his lips teased, taunted. His lips were plump, cherry-red. I groaned softly as I thought about kissing those lips. I ached to make them bright red and swollen.

Suddenly, as though the man had heard my groan, his eyes flew open. They were the most beautiful I'd ever seen. I didn't even realize eyes could attain such a perfect crystal blue.

When my eyes locked onto his, my heart stopped.


	2. The Most Beautiful Boy in the World

I opened my eyes, I'm not even sure why, to see a boy, maybe ten years younger, staring at me. He was gorgeous. Perfectly styled chestnut hair (it had a freshly fucked look). Intense hazel eyes. The desire in them was so strong, even palpable. But they held something else, too. I couldn't even put a word to it, but it was soft. Warm. Suddenly the boy approached. He stated simply, with so much confidence, "You don't want him. You want me."

I can't explain it, but I was unable to speak, to form even the smallest of words. The boy unexpectedly pushed the trick away and growled, "Fuck off." Despite the boy's youthful exterior, he had a commanding presence, one the trick (and I) responded to. The blond glared at the boy, but left.

The boy then pulled up my pants and fastened them. I was about to protest (this kid had some nerve), but then he whispered, his voice soft and full of awe, "You shouldn't be getting shitty blowjobs in alleys. You're worth so much more. So beautiful." With the last two words, he caressed my cheek gently. Then he said, "Take me to your place. I'll make this a night you'll never forget."

I still can't believe what I did next. I looked into his eyes for a long moment. What I saw there shook me to the very core. I swallowed hard. Then I smiled and replied, willing my voice to remain even, "Ok. Let's go."

We walked over to my motorcycle. I was about to hop on when I stopped dead in my tracks. I didn't trick a lot, not really, but when I did, I didn't ask for names or numbers. I did occasionally date, but never successfully. Work, family, and friends, mostly work, took up the large part of my time. When I was seized with inspiration, I'd lock myself in my studio for days, just painting. That devotion had made me one of the most prolific up and comers in the art world, but didn't exactly make me good boyfriend material. Most men felt threatened by either my success or my dedication to my art.

I wasn't always a workaholic. Once upon a time, when I was a wide-eyed virgin, I'd believed that love was everything. I'd craved it. I'd wanted it to be the guiding force of my life. But then I'd grown up. I'd realized, all too soon, that the love I desired could only be found in my head, in my imagination. I'd resisted for a little while, despite the constant disappointment, but eventually, I'd decided that my one true love, my muse, would only take physical form on canvas. Since then, once in a blue moon, I'd need reminding, so I'd pursue something more serious than tricking, but a week or a month of that had always confirmed my beliefs, my fears. But now…now, despite the kid's age, despite what I knew to be true, I wanted to really connect. I wanted whatever happened between us to be meaningful. So I turned around and asked, "What's your name?"

The boy grinned. "Brian. And you are…?"

I smiled back at him and purred, yes, purred, "Justin."

Brian stepped closer and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. He nudged my nose as he pulled back and drawled, "Justin. Brian and Justin."

Then he smiled again, but more softly. "I like the sound of that."

I did, too.

I sat on my bike and handed Brian my extra helmet. He shot me a disgusted look, but when I smiled and implored him with my eyes to oblige, he begrudgingly put it on and climbed up behind me. I pushed the kickstand up, flipped the kill switch, turned the key, pressed the on button while squeezing the clutch with my left hand, twisted the throttle gently with my right hand as I nudged the bike into first gear with my left foot, and then slowly released the clutch. As we sped off, Brian slid his hands around my waist. He wasn't shy about it, either. He held me tight. I couldn't help but smile. This night would be memorable for sure.

My loft was primarily a workspace. A workspace with a king size bed (with red silk sheets and a red velour duvet) in the middle and a small kitchen. I didn't own a couch or a tv, although I did have a chaise (also red). I tossed my leather jacket on the chaise and lit a few candles by the bed. When I turned back around, Brian was wearing nothing but a soft smile. I chuckled at his enthusiasm, but when I raked my eyes over his body, my breath hitched. He was…amazingly beautiful, with bronze skin, a muscled chest, but not overly so, a huge cock, fully erect and dripping, and a small, firm ass.

Brian continued to smile, but then his eyes darkened. He looked down and swallowed hard. He asked, his voice uncertain for the first time that night, "Can we take a shower?"

Now it was my turn to swallow hard. Then I squeaked out, yes, squeaked out, "Sure." He hadn't said so explicitly, but I'd gotten the message loud and clear. He wanted to wash the other men off of me. I would have been insulted if the request were not motivated by deep jealousy. Jealousy was hot, especially on Brian.

I shed my clothes quickly. Brian watched me with adoring eyes. I couldn't take my eyes off of his. I was strangely captivated by his captivation.


	3. Are You for Real?

I took Justin's hand and led him to the bathroom. I even threaded our fingers together. I didn't know how much time we would have (I hoped we would have a lifetime, but just in case we didn't, I wanted to relish every second we shared). Once inside, Justin automatically started the shower and adjusted the temperature. He didn't even let go of my hand, not until we were under the spray. I soaped up my hands and washed every single inch of his body. Justin was so shocked by my strange behavior (I assumed it was strange) that he just stared at my face (in wonder) the whole time. When I finished, he asked softly, "Are you for real?"

I replied solemnly, "Yes."

That made Justin smile, so brightly. My eyes danced, and I smiled a little, too. I've never been one for big, all-teeth grins, and I could certainly never beat Justin's million-watt smile.

Justin took the soap, got his hands all sudsy, and then proceeded to wash me. The moment he touched my body, I shivered and drew my breath in sharply. His hands were strong, but so gentle, as though he were handling a work of art. The entire time they roamed my body, my heart pounded so hard in my chest, and my cock ached. I was desperate for him to be inside me, to feel connected, complete.

So once we were squeaky clean, I shut off the water and pulled Justin into the front room. I couldn't even wait for us to towel off. I pulled him all the way to the bed, but then suddenly, I was overcome with the need to make him smile the way the blond had, but more to make him moan and cry out. I dropped to my knees. But before I started sucking Justin's cock, I looked up at him. His eyes widened, and his breathing grew ragged. For a second, he looked like he might shed tears.

I whispered, "I love you, Justin," which caused him to shiver (I think that was the reason, but he definitely shivered), and then sucked on the head of his cock. Justin moaned, "Oh Brian…"

Encouraged, I slid my lips over his cock slowly until I could feel the tip in my throat. I almost gagged at first, but I persisted and the feeling passed. Then I did something I'd heard my mom's friends talk about; I swallowed around the tip of Justin's cock, as hard as I could. He cried out, "Oh God!"

I pulled back and looked up at his face. He was still watching me intently, but his eyelids were heavy with desire, his face flushed, and his mouth open slightly. I smiled shyly and then wolfed his cock down, fast this time, so that it entered my throat, and then over and over again, bobbing my head up and down. Suddenly, he let out a guttural moan and pushed me away. He held onto my shoulders tight and willed his breathing and his heart rate to slow. Once he had, he looked at me. I was confused. Justin smiled softly and rasped, "I don't want to cum that way. Not our first time."


	4. You're Mine Now

I stood up quickly and lay on the bed, with my knees up. I wanted to see every expression on Justin's face when he entered me, while he was fucking me.

Justin closed his eyes for a moment and then followed. But he didn't climb up after me. Instead, he kneeled on the floor in front of the bed. He placed my legs on his shoulders and then rubbed his forehead against my ass cheeks, just breathing me in. Then he spread my ass cheeks with his hands and licked my entrance, drawing the flat part of his tongue across it slowly and then circling it with the tip, before plunging it inside. The moment he did, I cried out, "Oh Fuck!"

Justin fucked me with his tongue for a couple of minutes and then traced my entrance with the tip of his tongue once more. Then he quickly climbed up on the bed, grabbed lube and a condom from his bedside table, sheathed his cock, slicked it with lube, and started pushing his enormous erection inside me. The pain was excruciating at first. But when Justin saw my face tense up, he stopped moving, watching me closely, waiting for me to relax. Once I had, he thrust all the way in, but slowly. I remembered that one of the hustlers in my building told me, when I'd asked him (at 14) whether the first time hurt, that I should push out during, that that made it less painful. So as Justin thrust inside me, that's exactly what I did. He slid all the way in after that and moaned a deep body moan when we were fully joined.

Then he pulled almost all the way out and pushed all the way back in, though slow at first. As he inched inside me, I felt the most incredible feeling. I started panting. Justin continued to pull almost all the way out and thrust back in. Every time he did that I felt that same delicious feeling, until my body hummed electric.

Justin was breathing heavy the entire time, but suddenly, he moaned, "You feel so…fucking…perfect, so…tight, almost as if…"

His eyes shot open.

Then he stopped moving mid-thrust and cried out, "Oh God! You're a virgin?"

I smiled shyly and shook my head. "Not anymore."

His voice was now filled with deep concern. He asked, "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?

I assured him, "Yes, I'm okay, and no you didn't hurt me, not much anyway. You're a gentle person."

Justin huffed a laugh. "Not always."

In a half-growl, I pleaded, "Fuck me, Justin. Fuck me hard and fast."

I couldn't help but smile at the strangled moan my words elicited. Then he obliged. He rotated his hips as he thrust and kept rubbing up against my sweet spot until I moaned a deep body moan. My cock erupted, and my ass clamped down onto his cock. Justin threw back his head and cried out, "Oh God! Oh Fuck! Brian!"

He said that last part in a husky whisper that I found so sexy. He laid his head on my chest, part that was not covered in my cum, and rubbed it gently with his cheek. Then he pulled out, disposed of the condom, and wiped my chest off with a warm wet cloth. When he crawled into bed beside me, I pulled him on top of me and brushed my lips against his. Then I thrust my tongue into his mouth, kissing him passionately. I kissed him forcefully, confidently, but I wasn't sure whether I was doing it right, not at first. But when he kissed me back with equal vigor, slipping his hands under my head and pulling me closer, kissing me deeper, it felt so right, so perfect. After a few moments of frantically making out, I broke our kiss and whispered, "You're mine now, Justin. All mine."


	5. All Mine

"_You're mine now, Justin. All mine."_

I didn't know what to say. To buy myself some time, I teased, "Am I now?"

Brian's eyes remained fixed on mine as he nodded slowly, a half-smile playing on his lips. I couldn't help but smile, too. He was so certain about everything, or seemed to be. I wish I had that wellspring of confidence.

Still hesitating, for I didn't want to hurt Brian or myself (no relationship I'd been in had ever worked, and, in fact, they'd all ended bitterly), I protested lightly, "What would your mom think about your having a 29-year-old boyfriend?"

Brian chuckled. "Who cares what she thinks? I'm seventeen. That's the age of consent in this state."

I let my head fall onto Brian's chest. I'd just robbed the fucking cradle. I moaned, "Please tell me you're at least out of high school…"

"Nope. Just started my senior year."

I moaned again. Brian ran his fingers gently through my hair, I supposed, to console me.

Brian scoffed, "Her motherly concern is severely lacking anyway. I'm lucky she hasn't turned me out."

My head flew up at that. "Turned you out?"

"Forced me to sell my body."

Horrified, I exclaimed, "Oh God! Why the hell would she do that?"

Brian shrugged. "To bring me into the family business?"

Incredulously, I asked, "Your mom is…"

Brian finished my thought, "A whore." Then he looked down and cleared his throat. When he lifted his head again he was grinning. "In any case, she knows no one can take advantage of me." After a pause, he inquired, nervously (was he nervous?), "Do…do you regret taking me home?"

I smiled. "A person would have to be a fool not to have taken you home, and I'm no fool. No one, no one, could resist you."

Brian tilted his head in agreement. Arrogant prick. He pointed out, "But I bet they wouldn't have asked my name first or told me theirs." Then he drawled, "You can dodge and deny all you want. But I know the truth."

I quirked an eyebrow and asked, amusement evident in my voice, "And what's that?"

In a husky whisper, his eyes dark and intense, he replied, "We were meant to be. You know, I was saving myself for you."

My heart stopped beating. I rasped, "You didn't even know me before tonight."

Brian replied evenly, "Just because I hadn't met you doesn't mean I didn't know you."

Then he threaded his fingers into my hair and pulled me to him roughly, capturing my lips in a savage kiss. I moaned into his mouth and kissed him back hungrily.

I pulled back, flushed and breathless, and asked weakly, "But don't you want to be with someone your own age? I'll be thirty soon. Your friends will think you're dating an old man."

"Fuck other people. You're beautiful, and this is fate."

I had no words, and no more arguments. My chest constricted, and I suddenly forgot how to breathe. I flipped us over so that I was on my back, pulled Brian closer, nudged his nose gently, and in the millimeter of space between us, in the darkness (the candles had finally burned out), I whispered huskily, "You're mine now, Brian. All mine."

Brian moaned softly and sent his lips crashing down onto mine. My last two thoughts before I melted into the heat of our joining were "This is insane!" and "Fuck it! I don't care..."


	6. Awakening

Justin writhed and squinted awake, reached for alien warmth, another body, _his_ body, but came up empty. He frowned and wiped away the sleep and fragments of what he was now realizing must have been a dream from his eyes.

Hazel orbs dark with desire burning into him, rough hands and a hot wet mouth sliding over every inch of his body, exploring. His hard, leaking, throbbing cock squeezing into deliciously tight chasms. Soft sighs, desperate moans. Urgency spreading in an electric fog through his body, his mind, his heart.

Justin shut his eyes tight, trying with sheer willpower to push away the ache his dream lover had caused with his presence and then departure. He wanted to swallow it down, but, instead, it radiated outward on pleading words.

_Come closer. Closer. Closer still. Until everything beyond is out of focus and we're a blur. No part of you or I distinct. _

Justin fell back onto the bed, mentally berating himself for his slip, his headlong plunge, back into the hopeless romanticism and sentimentality that he'd spent twelve years extricating, purging, from himself. Ripping out all his silly dreams one by one like shards of glass embedded deeply in his skin.

Maybe an orgasm would do the trick. The intense heat licking, curling, and shuddering through him would empty his mind, send the fuzzy strands of his dream careening toward oblivion. Justin wet his lips as he slid his hand down to his now painful erection. He gripped his dick hard, swiped the precum off his slit, and started stroking himself. Fast. The sooner he forgot the better. He moaned softly and arched his back up off the tangle of sheets and blankets. Unbidden, images of his fantasy boy rose and then fell as one quickly replaced another. The boy dropping to his knees and deepthroating his cock, his hands on the boy's hips as he pounded into him in the dark, a jumble of lips and tongues forming kisses that seared through him, and whispering words that burned through him even hotter and then ice cold, sending his heart plummeting.

_You're so beautiful. _

_I love you._

_You're mine now._

Justin mewled and then let out a strangled moan as his body froze, mid stroke, midair, cum shooting and falling and then dripping in ribbons of white.

Suddenly, a voice like warm honey floated toward him.

"You're so beautiful."

But this time it wasn't coming from inside Justin's head.

Justin, incredulous, eyes wide, breathed, "Brian…"

*************

I exclaimed softly, "Brian, I thought you'd gone…" Inside, I was doing back flips. Last night had been real. So real.

Brian swallowed hard, and I knew why. His dick was fully erect and leaking. I smiled brightly. He must have enjoyed the show. He shook his head gently and confessed, "I woke up while you were still sleeping. I was curious…I couldn't help looking around." Then he asked, "You're a painter?"

I nodded absently and crooked a finger. I was suddenly dying to demonstrate my superior cock-sucking skills. My heart started to race when I realized that no one else's lips had ever been wrapped around Brian's cock. I loved the idea of being his first everything. When a little voice inside me added "his last, his only," I grimaced slightly (although I caught myself, I hoped, quickly enough that Brian hadn't noticed). I knew, all too well, that relationships didn't last. (Still, I couldn't prevent my heart from leaping at the thought that I was in a relationship, of sorts, with Brian, not even with the mantra, "He's a kid, just a kid with silly romantic notions."). I had never had a relationship of more than a few months, and I knew that even long-term relationships seldom, if ever, lasted a lifetime. My best friends, Emmett and Daphne, had both been in a few, but they had all ended eventually, usually with screaming and some degree of property damage, and my parents' marriage had crashed and burned after almost two decades. If people were managing forever, they weren't people I knew.

I smiled again when Brian flushed and headed my way. Despite his initial (and obvious) unease, after a beat or two, he moved toward me confidently, with a feline grace and burning eyes. Even though I had climaxed but a few moments ago, my cock was again standing at attention. I shivered. If nothing else, we were going to have tons and tons of incredible sex.

When Brian reached my side, I flipped him onto his back, threw his legs up onto my shoulders, and leaned down. I licked a finger, drawing the flat of my tongue along it, circled the top with the tip of my tongue, and then took it into my mouth, sucking on it hard and getting it good and wet with saliva. Brian had been watching me rapt, and when I'd taken it all into my mouth, he'd whimpered. I smiled around my finger and then pulled it out and moved my arm so that I could trace Brian's entrance with my saliva-slick finger. Brian moaned softly. Then I did what I had done to my finger to Brian's cock (all the while tracing circles around his entrance), drawing the flat of my tongue along the bottom of his cock, from base to head, drawing it over Brian's slit and then tracing the head with the tip of my tongue, and sucking on the head for a minute before finally drawing his entire cock into my mouth, sucking on it even as I licked patterns on his shaft. Brian eyes had not left me, but they were nearly closed, and he was panting. I paused for a moment to waggle my eyebrows at him and then proceeded to suck his cock again, this time like he only had a minute or two to live and I was desperate to send him out with a bang. I also pushed my finger inside Brian and curved it back toward me until I touched his prostate. The second my finger grazed it, Brian shouted ("Oh!!! Ohhhhhhhh, Justin!") and shot his load in my mouth. I gulped it down greedily and continued to suck on his cock softly until the aftershocks subsided.

Then I crawled beside Brian and lay on my back. When he exclaimed, "That was fucking HOT!" I giggled and smiled like the cat who got the canary. Then I rolled to my side and gazed at Brian, who had rolled onto his so that he was facing me. I couldn't stop myself from running my fingers through his chestnut hair, now damp with sweat. Brian looked down at the bed, playing with the edge of the duvet for a moment, but then looked up and asked, "Would you paint me?"

I smiled and replied eagerly, "Sure!"

He tensed at my enthusiasm, which puzzled me at first. But then, he inquired, a slight edge to his voice, "Do you paint everyone you fuck?"

His eyes were suddenly cold.

I couldn't help but smile. Brian pushed my hand away and rolled onto his back.

I laughed softly. "Brian, look at me."

He didn't move.

"Please…"

He turned his head back to face me, but slowly, and his eyes were still cold.

I whispered huskily, "No. I never have, and…I never will.

The implication was not lost on Brian. His eyes widened in surprise.

He asked nervously, "You've never painted a lover before?"

I shook my head. His eyes melted, turning a beautiful caramel color. He murmured, "Justin" against my lips and thrust his tongue into my mouth and kissed me passionately. I moaned softly and pulled him on top of me, kissing him back hungrily. I was fucked. No one had ever intoxicated me the way this boy did, and I had a sneaking suspicion that no one ever would.


	7. Breakfast in Bed

Justin and I were making out hot and heavy when, suddenly, I heard a noise. I broke our kiss, but didn't move otherwise. I just listened. There it was again. A low growl. I had been looking at Justin the whole time. His eyes had widened in confusion when I first pulled away, but, now, he was actually blushing.

I quirked an eyebrow. "You hungry?"

Justin squeezed both his eyes shut for a moment, but then opened one just a little bit. Then he opened both of them all the way and burst out, "Famished!"

I rolled off of him and sat up. "I'll make you something. I make food for my mom a lot. She can't cook for shit."

Justin sat up and leaned back on his arms. He said, in a shy voice that made my cock twitch, "Okay" and smiled softly.

Ten minutes later, I returned. I handed Justin a bowl of Fruit Loops and said enthusiastically, "Ta da!"

Justin worried his bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the laughter that was obviously bubbling up inside him, but he might as well have been a lighthouse, his eyes were shining so bright. He asked hesitantly, "You made me cereal?"

I cleared my throat and nodded toward my right hand, which still held a huge mug of steaming hot coffee.

Justin placed the bowl on the end table and took the mug and set it next to the bowl. Then he grabbed me, threw me onto the bed, and rolled on top of me. He started placing open-mouthed kisses all over my neck.

I asked, in a mock hurt voice, "Aren't you going to eat your breakfast? I slaved for you…I had to pour the cereal into the bowl and add milk. And let's not forget that I had to find a spoon…"

Justin cut me off with a searing kiss. Then he pulled back and suggested brightly, "Let's go out for breakfast!"

I smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that!"

Justin looked shocked. "You little shit!"

I chuckled. "You should have seen your face when I handed you the bowl…"

Justin nuzzled my neck and kissed my cheek. He whispered, "Still, it was sweet..."

Abruptly, he rolled over again and pushed me to a standing position. He purred, "You're damn lucky you're hot!"

My eyes widened a little, and I smiled. "You think I'm hot?"

Justin stared at me blankly for a moment, apparently deciding not to feed my already healthy ego, and then rambled on, "You jump in the shower first."

When I didn't move, he shooed me, "Go, go! My stomach's about to eat my liver."

"Aren't you gonna join me?"

Justin laughed this warm, deep laugh that caused my entire body to shiver. "Are you fucking kidding? If I did that, we'd never get out of here!"

I dutifully trudged to the shower alone. After I was finished, Justin took his turn. As I dressed, I noticed that the bowl and the mug of coffee were both still sitting on the end table. Except now they were empty. I smiled brightly (well, for me; I even showed some teeth).


	8. To Do or Not to Do Three Ways

After I finished dressing, Justin was still in the shower, so I continued to look around his loft. When I saw a stereo, I turned it on and hit play. Music blared out of the three-feet-tall speakers, and rappers I had never heard before started shouting, "Face down ass up! That's the way we like to fuck!" Then came the first verse. The first solo rapper was singing too fast for me to understand all the words, but this part I got, loud and clear:

"A double team with a friend of mine.

Luke's in front and I'm behind

Just ridin you like a pony

While you suck my dick, makin me horny.

Then all of a sudden we'll switch positions."

I swallowed hard. Just then, Justin, naked and damp from the shower, came flying over the chaise (which was next to the stereo) and hit the power button. Our eyes met. I knew he must have seen the accusation in mine, and I felt ridiculous, like a prude, but I couldn't help it. The thought of Justin, my beautiful artist boyfriend, in a three way made me nauseous. I shut my eyes and shook my head, trying to banish the image that had come unbidden.

Justin laughed uncomfortably and explained, "It was recently my birthday…that 2 Live Crew CD was a gag gift from one of my best friends; Daphne has a weird sense of humor."

"But you've done them, right?"

Uneasily, Justin asked, "What?"

"Three ways."

"Oh." After a long pause, he added softly, "Yeah."

Another wave of nausea hit me when I imagined Justin as the person in the middle. I silently implored, "Please no…"

I cleared my throat and blinked a few times. Then I asked stiffly, "What role did you play?"

Justin sighed. "At one point or another…all of them."

I clenched my jaw and trained my eyes on the floor, nodding slowly.

Justin whispered helplessly, almost like he were asking forgiveness, "Brian…" and took my hand in his. When I lifted my head, looking directly into his eyes, and threaded our fingers together, he sighed in relief and smiled weakly. He sat down on the chaise and pulled me into his lap.

"I don't even remember them. Not their names or their faces. It was just sex."

I clenched and unclenched my free hand a few times before biting the bullet. I declared firmly, "I don't want you tricking or participating in any 'group activities.' Not anymore."

I let out a breath I didn't even realize I'd been holding when Justin smiled and nodded once firmly. "Roger that." Then he stared at me for a minute; he looked worried or anxious, something…

Finally he inquired, his voice low, "But what about you? You're so young. Are you sure, you know, that you want it to be just us?"

I looked at him sharply. But when he tilted his head, a sad expression on his face, all the anger disappeared. I replied softly, "Yes. You're all I need. All I want. I could have fucked anyone in the last year, but I was waiting until I found you. Now that I have, how could I want anyone else?"

His breath hitched in his throat. He whispered huskily, "Brian…the things you say…"

"I mean every word."

He looked at me apprehensively, but then smiled and stood, gently sliding me off his lap, though we were still holding hands. "I'd better finish dressing."

As he headed back to the bedroom area, I continued to hold his hand. Suddenly I pulled him back. I smiled and kissed him on the lips gently.

Justin smiled back, but seemed confused. He asked, "What was that?"

"A belated birthday kiss."

He exclaimed, but softly, "Oh." That had to be the cutest sound I'd ever heard.


	9. Deb Flips Her Wig

Brian and I had finally made it out of the loft and were now at the Liberty Diner.

Deb came over right away. "Hey there, Sunshine!"

Brian quirked an eyebrow and smiled. I blushed.

Seeing Brian, Deb asked cheerfully, "Did you sign up for the big brother program?"

Brian's eyes danced with amusement. I huffed a laugh. "Uh…no."

"Is he a friend of Molly's?"

Brian shot me a questioning glance. I explained, "My sister." Then I answered Deb: "No."

Deb shook her head. "I don't get it then."

I took a deep breath and said, "This is my new boyfriend, Brian." I couldn't help but smile at him then. He smiled back.

Deb gasped. "Sunshine, you have more sense than this!"

"He's legal, Deb."

"But still, he's just a kid."

Brian interjected, "He's got a name and doesn't appreciate being spoken about as if he's not here."

Deb was taken aback. She was about to snap at him when Mikey ran in.

Mikey caught sight of Brian, and I could see a flash of recognition in his eyes.

Fuck.

Mikey exclaimed, "Brian Kinney! What are you doing here? And why are you with my Uncle Justin?"

Deb asked, "You know him?"

"Yeah. He's in my class."

"Oh fucking hell! You hearing this Sunshine? He's in high school!"

"I already knew."

"He can't even vote!"

With his tongue firmly in his cheek, Brian retorted, "I don't need to vote to suck his cock."

I admonished, "Brian!" But I smiled, too.

"And the mouth on him?"

Brian deadpanned, "Still here."

Continuing to ignore Brian, Deb asked me, "Well, did you even bother to check his ID?"

I shot Deb a warning look. "Deb! No!"

"Well, fuck, Sunshine! Haven't you ever read an article about a statutory rape case? The kids always say they're legal, but they LIE. Kid, show me your ID."

Brian raised an eyebrow, but made no move to oblige.

Deb threw her hand on her hip. "You think I'm kidding. Whip it out!"

"Deb!"

Brian waved his hand at me and then pulled out his wallet. "It's okay. See. 17. Legal."

Debbie took the ID out of his wallet and examined it closely. She seemed to consider biting it like you do with gold but then thought better of it.

"I guess it's real enough. Well, if push comes to shove, I'll testify that I saw the little jerk's ID."

"Deb, please!"

"I know that artists are allowed to be a little eccentric, but this, this is a little over the top. What if the pappataci snap a picture of you two?"

"Unless I missed some major news, sandflies can't carry cameras. I think you mean paparazzi."

"Pappataci, paparazzi, whatever. You know what I'm saying to you."

I nodded.

"They'll call you a God damned pedophile!"

Her eyes widened as she imagined possible repercussions. "If crazy mothers start going after you, you're screwed! I should know; I am a crazy mother. They could get people to protest your shows, pressure galleries not to exhibit your work…this could ruin you! Is the ass really that good?"

Brian nodded. I giggled. Then, with a serious expression, I turned to Deb. "Deb…come on. It'll be fine. I'll be discreet. It would be one thing if he were actually underage, but he's not. The law's on my side."

"Sweetie, you're gay. You don't have a side. It's ugly and unfair, but true."

Mikey was halfway out the door when Deb called him back. "Mikey, come here! You say one God damned word about this to anyone at school or anywhere else, and…and…I'll burn your little funny books. Every single one!"

Mikey's eyes grew to the size of saucers. "You wouldn't!"

"Oh I would! I've been looking for an excuse. Don't test me!"

"Okay, Ma." Mikey hung his head as he ran out, setting the bells on the door to jingling, probably headed to the comic book store. It was Saturday morning after all.

A few seconds later, the bell above the diner door jingled again. This time, it was Daphne. She bounded in.

Deb breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her. "Talk some sense into your friend Edgar Allan Poe over there, would ya?"

"Huh?"

"You'll see."


	10. Daphne and the Morality Police

"What the hell did Deb mean by calling you Edgar Allan Poe?"

Justin sighed.

I volunteered brightly, "I think I'm supposed to be Virginia Poe. When they married, she was 13, and he was 27."

Justin's eyes widened in surprise and admiration.

Daphne squinted and looked between us. "Wait…"

Anticipating her question, Justin smiled and interjected, "Daphne, meet my new boyfriend Brian. Brian this is Daphne, one of my oldest and dearest friends."

"You're 13?"

Justin rolled his eyes, but I answered, "17."

"Ah…"

Daphne's question was embarrassing, but the impressed look on Justin's face at my Poe trivia was worth all the humiliation in the world. To break the tension (and to get a little payback), I asked nonchalantly, "So, Daphne, I hear you like it face down, ass up…"

She blushed and glared at Justin, and he pretended to be scandalized, but he was giggling too much to be believable.

The bell above the door jingled again, and when Justin looked to see who it was, he groaned. "Oh hell…the morality police. Fuckin Deb! She must have called them."

"Who?"

Daphne whispered, "Lindsay and Mel. The moral center of our little group."

"Brian, come here. Sit next to me."

"Uh, ok."

I slid in the booth next to Justin, and the next thing I knew he was in my lap, with his arms around my neck, not that I minded, of course. He also started nibbling on my earlobe. In the brief seconds it took the 'morality police' to reach the table, I was already panting, and when they sat down, Justin turned my head toward him, breathed, "Brian" against my lips, and thrust his tongue into my mouth. I couldn't help but moan. In the blink of an eye, the world fell away. Only Justin and I existed. The moment our lips touched a circuit was completed, sending electricity and burning heat coursing through our bodies as we desperately sought release in something that could only whet our desire. We drove our tongues deeper and deeper and, threading fingers through hair, pulled each other closer and closer. In short order, Justin, who had been sitting sideways on my lap, pivoted so that he was straddling me. I was done. I slid my hands down to his ass, squeezing and pushing while also thrusting upward. Justin was just as desperate for friction and contact. It felt as though he was simultaneously trying to crawl inside me and swallow me whole.

Meanwhile (as Daphne told us later), Daphne, Lindsay, and Mel started clearing their throats loudly and then calling Justin's name. Daphne even nudged Justin. We were oblivious to it all. The person who finally sent us crashing back to reality was Deb, by smacking Justin in the back of the head. Hard.

I had no idea at first that she'd done that. All I knew was that Justin suddenly pulled away and cried out, "OW!"

Deb smacked her gum. "Serves ya right! This ain't the backroom of Babylon."

Daphne giggled. "Is it hot in here or is it just me?"

I rubbed the back of Justin's head gently and kissed his cheek. Noting that everyone in the diner was watching us, Justin blushed a deep crimson. Then he turned back to me, a look of wonder on his face, and breathed, "What is it about you? You literally intoxicate me!"

I shook my head and whispered, "I was gonna ask you the same thing."

Justin rested his head on my shoulder for a moment, still trying to catch his breath. I held him tight. I barely managed to stifle a disappointed groan when he moved off of my lap.

Deb broke whatever was left of our spell when she nudged Justin's shoulder and stared directly at my obvious erection, commenting, "Nice package your boy toy has!"

Justin smiled, and I glared.

Then Justin introduced me to the morality police, "Brian, this is Lindsay and Mel, Lindsay and Mel, this is my boyfriend (he looked at Deb pointedly then) Brian."

Deb harrumphed. Lindsay and Mel both looked like they were about to launch into a long lecture, but Justin stopped them with a wave of his hand. "I've heard it all from Deb. I don't need any more warnings, so just save your breath."

Mel glowered, and Lindsay sighed. Lindsay asked, "How well do you even know each other? You can't have known each other too long if this is the first we're hearing of it."

Ignoring me, Mel addressed Justin, her voice a hiss, "You might not be breaking a law by fucking him, Justin, but that doesn't mean he can't hurt you. He's probably using you, paving the way for a nice big payday down the road. The media eats this kind of shit up. If you don't end this now, you'll only be remembered as a pervert who took some poor boy's innocence, not for your art."

Lindsay chastised, "Mel!" and then turned to Justin, asking in a soft, 'kindly' voice, "What about Brian? Have you thought how this inappropriate relationship will affect him? He should be with people his own age. You're at different stages of life. Starting a serious relationship so young is probably a mistake."

Turning to me, she asked, "Wouldn't you like to play the field a little? See what's out there?"

I had been looking at Justin (and ignoring everyone else), worried that he might be buying into their bullshit. But now that Lindsay was addressing me directly, I lost it. "Where the fuck do you get off telling me what I need or want?"

Lindsay's eyes widened. Mel snapped, "Justin, are you gonna let this prick talk to her like that?"

I tensed up for a minute, unsure how Justin would react. But then Justin shook his head in incredulity and retorted, "I was about to ask her the same question." He slid out of the booth and said, "Come on, Brian, let's go."

Daphne, the only one of the bunch I liked, gave Justin a helpless look and mouthed "Call me." He nodded and then took my hand in his and threaded our fingers together. I smiled at Mel and Lindsay in triumph. But I chuckled when Justin muttered, "If you're gonna make a man suffer through the fucking inquisition, the least you could do is take his order first!"


	11. The Other Side of the Tracks

My new boyfriend's appetite was no joke. I couldn't believe I was seriously considering this, but maybe I would take a cooking class or, at the very least, ask Ted, Blake's most regular john, to teach me how to make some Italian dishes. He was a huge opera fan, so huge a fan, in fact, that he had learned how to make Italian food, not like spaghetti and meatballs, but 'haute cuisine,' well the Italian version. And, of course, he knew which Italian wines to serve with each. As I watched Justin plow through his sausage and biscuits with gravy, only pausing to sip his coffee or gulp down his juice, his eyes bright, I realized how true that old saying was, that is, the quickest way to a man's heart was through his stomach. This might not be true for all men, but it certainly seemed to be for mine.

We were at a diner near where I lived. I was a little nervous about bringing Justin so close to the 'red-light district,' which I called home, but Manny, the morning cook at "The Edge," which was short for the edge of the world, was known for his quick service and for doling out large helpings of surprisingly good food. When Justin let out a contented sigh and smiled at me warmly, I knew bringing him here had been worth the risk. Plus, it was still morning. No way would my mom roll out of bed before noon on a Saturday, not after a busy Friday night fucking and sucking hetero trolls. I shuddered at the thought.

Thankfully, Manny's approach got my mind off that train of thought. He punched me playfully in the arm and then looked Justin up and down. I realized then that that's why I had brought Justin. I'd told myself that I just wanted to take Justin somewhere with good food, but, deep down, I'd wanted to introduce him to Manny.

Manny inquired gruffly, "He yours?"

I nodded. I couldn't help but smile.

Manny grunted. "He looks a little old for you."

Justin hadn't said anything at this point. He was just watching the exchange curiously, a bemused smile on his face. Manny was family to me, kind of like a surrogate dad. I had never known mine. I'd heard that he was a dockworker. Course, not from my mom. My sister Claire, also a whore, had told me that one night after she'd had too much beer. She explained, a little bitterly, that my dad, our dad, hadn't wanted a second child. He had given my mom an ultimatum: an abortion or a divorce. Fortunately for me, but perhaps less fortunately for my mom and my sister, she had chosen a divorce. In addition to my mom and my sister, our happy little family included my two nephews, Claire's two brats. Don't get me wrong. I liked kids. I might even want some down the road, but hers were whiny, tantrum-throwing brats. I used to babysit them for a little extra money, but, now, I wouldn't do it for a million dollars. Claire spoiled them rotten. They could kill someone, and she'd ask what 'that mean man had done to her little boys' to deserve death.

So I had never even met my dad, and my family was hardly warm and loving. And Manny knew it. I think he felt bad. Ever since my mom brought me here for breakfast the morning we moved into this neighborhood, he'd taken on a paternal role. He had a son of his own, but he had plenty of fatherly love to go around. His son Ben was a few years older than me. He was a student at Carnegie-Mellon. Real smart. So smart that he'd gotten a full scholarship. Anyway, Manny had started inviting us over for Sunday dinners that week, and we'd gone every Sunday since. He would always play catch with me, well, until I outgrew it. He was the one who taught me how to throw and catch a football, and, every Sunday after that, he, Ben, and I would play, assuming that a game wasn't on. I never really liked football or sports of any kind, but I didn't mind playing with Manny and Ben or watching games with them.

I think my mom was hoping to hook up with Manny (which is why she always went with me. My sister was already out of the house when we met him, turning tricks like a big girl). For an old straight guy, Manny wasn't bad looking, so I couldn't blame my mom for hoping, but he was still hung up on his dead wife. Ben tried to get him to start dating a few years after she died (that was a year or two after we met him), but he refused. He said that his dead wife, Sheila, was still in his heart and that there was simply no room for anyone else. Course, he didn't mean me and Ben. We were definitely in his heart. I guess maybe I'd picked up some of his 'philosophy' on love. Glancing over at Justin, I knew he was in my heart and that he always would be.

When I turned my attention back to Justin (and Manny), I realized that they'd been talking.

"You're an artist, huh?"

Justin nodded.

Manny patted me on the back and grinned. "That's perfect. Perfect for a romantic like Brian." He sighed. "I had always kind of hoped that when Brian was old enough, he and Ben would start something. But I guess they're more like brothers. They kind of grew up together."

Justin quirked an eyebrow. My eyes widened. I'd had no idea that he'd hoped Ben and I would end up together.

Suddenly, the door to the diner swung open. Manny turned to look, and, seeing who it was, he gripped my shoulder.

I closed my eyes. No. No. No. Please, no.

But when I heard the new arrival's voice, I knew my worst nightmare had come true. My beloved, as Plato would have called Justin, was about to meet my mom.


	12. Brian's Mom

A middle-aged woman with stringy light brown hair in a low cut, form-fitting black dress and fish nets walked in. She walked with more purpose when her eyes lighted on Brian. Manny patted Brian on the shoulder, shook my hand, and muttered a quick, "It was nice to meet you, Justin," before high-tailing it back to the kitchen.

The woman sauntered up, tapped Brian on the shoulder, and drawled, "Well, look who we got here. My wayward son."

I tried to catch Brian's eye, but he wouldn't look at me. Instead, he clenched his jaw and stared at the table.

The woman, his mother, I presumed, hissed, "Where the fuck were you last night?"

I could only imagine how embarrassed he must feel. I was a pretty open-minded person, but, fuck, if my mom dressed like his, and in front of people, I would die of humiliation. But I didn't want him to think that her behavior was any reflection on him. My opinion of him, my feelings for him, had not changed. I reached over to touch his hand, but he pulled away as though he'd been stung.

Then, suddenly, a transformation took place. It was as though Brian had donned a mask. Now he was smirking, and his eyes danced with amusement, but somehow, they were cold, too. He swiveled around and retorted, "You mean you actually poked your head into my room in between pokes? I'm flattered."

The woman's eyes burned. "Look you little asshole, how do you think I put food on the table?"

Brian chuckled. "And booze in the liquor cabinet." Turning to me, he drawled, "That's the most important food group, you know."

He was speaking to me, but somehow, he wasn't. It was as though I was just a prop in their little war of words. A nameless, faceless body.

The woman snapped, "Show some fucking appreciation!"

Brian swung back around and interjected, "I think your johns do that well enough without my help."

Unexpectedly, the woman glanced my way. It was as though this was the first time she was seeing me. And by the slight wobble I observed in her stance and the slight slur I heard in her voice, I guessed that it probably was. She looked me up and down. She seemed to focus a great deal on my hands, I guessed at my Rolex and my platinum thumb ring. When she spoke again, I knew I'd guessed right.

"He your sugar daddy? Well, boy, if so, you done good. Reaaal good."

He turned toward her more, so I couldn't see the expression on his face, maybe that's why he did it. But I was grateful. I had no desire to see how much that dig pained him. Mortified him. He didn't say a word. He just stared at her. Then he got up and stormed out. I threw a few bills on the table, shook my head at Brian's mom, and followed.


	13. The Chase

Brian was walking quickly down the street when I got outside. He walked right past my bike and kept on going.

I called, "Brian, wait," but he didn't stop or slow down. In fact, he quickened his pace. I sighed as I watched his retreating form. Part of me ached to chase him, but another part of me urged caution. Every relationship I'd ever been in or heard about had crashed and burned, and those relationships were less messy, less complex. Brian and I were more than twelve years apart in age. We lived in completely different worlds. If his response to my encountering his mom were any indication, for me to be a part of his, I'd have to push my way in. And he probably wouldn't be comfortable in mine. Our relationship, such as it was, was probably doomed to failure. Wouldn't it be kinder to let him go, before either of us had gotten in too deep? Before either of us got hurt?

I walked over to my bike, but I didn't get on. Instead, I traced my fingers along the seat, where but forty-five minutes ago, Brian had sat, his arms around my waist, holding me so tight and laughing. His laughter was music to my ears. So was his moaning, his growling, his overconfident declarations, his husky promises. His awed whispers.

"Fuck it."

Next thing I knew, I was speeding down the road on my bike, scanning the sidewalk and cross-streets for Brian. Man that little fucker walked fast! I passed three streets before I saw him. He was just starting to cross street number four, ironically named Hope Street. I cut right, hard, skidding to a halt right in front of him. I looked at him, my eyes no doubt twinkling, and flashed him one of my dazzling smiles. His eyes widened a little and the hint of a smile crept across his lips. But then he frowned and cast his eyes down. He walked around the back of my bike, past Hope Street, and kept on going.

For a moment, I didn't move. I was stunned. But then I parked, jumped off, and chased him. When I caught up with him, I grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him against the nearest building. A little out of breath, I sputtered, "You don't get to walk away."

He was maddening. I could see how surprised, how happy he was when he saw me, but then he shut down and pushed me off of him. "Watch me."

This time I didn't chase him. But I called out, "So you're not for real? Everything you said, it was all bullshit?"

That got a reaction. He stopped walking, but didn't turn around. On some crazy impulse, I leapt toward him, spun him around, and sent my lips crashing onto his. Crushing him into my arms and kissing him ravenously. Gulping him down like he was the very air I needed to sustain myself. He moaned and kissed me back, pulling me closer by the waist, pulling me so hard against him that his fingers were digging into my skin. When we finally broke apart, he thrust his face into the crook of my neck and whispered, "I don't want your fucking money."

I could feel a few hot tears on my skin. I just held him tighter and whispered back, "I never thought you did."

I wanted to scream when I heard Brian's mom's slurring drawl. "If you're on your way home, you better tell Ted and Blake your back. I sent them looking for you."

Brian's entire body tensed. I was afraid he'd bolt, but he didn't. Instead he pulled away from me and wheeled around to face her. "Fine. And where are you off to this bright and early?"

She shrugged. "I got a date."

Brian's eyes narrowed. "It's not even noon."

"One of my regulars wants a little before packing the wife and kiddies in the minivan and driving to Disney World. He's paying double."

Brian nodded absently. His mom turned and walked away.

I patted Brian's arm and suggested cheerfully, "So let's go see Ted and Blake."

Brian fixed me with a cold stare. "Blake's a hustler and Ted's one of his regulars."

I held Brian's eyes. "And?"

Brian chuckled. "You're fucking crazy, you know that?"

I laughed. "Who's sadder, the crazy or the man who loves the crazy?"

Brian smirked and bumped my shoulder. Then he said, "Come on," and headed toward my bike.

I smiled and slapped his ass. Brian looked back at me and admonished, "Watch how you handle the merchandise."

"That is sooo not funny!"

Brian quirked an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe a little."

TBC…


	14. Brian's World

When we pulled up to the front of my building, where Blake also lived, Blake and Ted were standing outside. As soon as I dismounted and pulled off that stupid helmet Justin made me wear, Blake ran up to me. "Brian! We were so worried about you! Are you okay?"

I couldn't help but grin. "Better than okay. Blake, Ted, this is Justin"

Justin extended a hand to each in turn. Blake and Ted looked back and forth between Justin and I a few times. Ted's eyes widened, and Blake smiled. "Is Justin your boyfriend?"

I nodded and looked back at Justin. He was beaming. I smiled a little shyly.

Blake pulled me aside and asked, "Does that mean…?"

I just grinned.

"You used protection, right?"

"Of course."

"Good. Good." Blake smiled brightly and patted me on the back. "So…how was it?"

I glanced over at Justin. He and Ted were looking at each other uncomfortably, discussing the weather. I chuckled. Then I replied to Blake, "Fucking amazing!"

Blake shook his head and smiled. "It must have been. I don't think I've ever seen you smile so much."

I nodded in agreement. "Today, I can't seem to stop."

"Well don't let us interrupt. I'm glad you came by. We were just about to go down Liberty again looking for you. Your mom was really worried."

I scoffed. "I highly doubt that."

Blake gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Your mom's hardly perfect, but, whatever her flaws, she does love you."

"If you say so."

Blake gave me a compassionate look. We turned back to Justin and Ted.

"Oh, so you're an accountant? That must be interesting."

Ted deadpanned, "It's really not."

I laughed. "Well, as scintillating as your conversation sounds, I'm going to steal Justin away, if you don't mind."

Ted shrugged.

Justin smiled. "So can I see your place?"

I stiffened, "You sure you want to?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Uh, cause it's a dump."

"I want to see where you sleep, where you'll be dreaming of me."

I bumped Justin's shoulder, but, then, I pulled him into the building. We walked the three flights of stairs, which were metal, but painted green and orange, past three girls playing jax on the landing, past two twenty-something hookers, who were chatting in the hall by the stairs, in their robes, holding big mugs of coffee, and past another twenty-something hooker and her pimp, who was accusing her of turning tricks on the side. Just another day in the life. They were arguing in front of the hooker's apartment, which was on my floor, in fact, just across the way from mine. Justin slowed down when he heard the argument and then stopped. I sighed and took Justin's hand. "Put the cape back in the closet, Superman. Shirley doesn't need a hero. She's a feisty bitch."

Justin shook his head, but let me lead him to my door and then inside. He plopped down on our lovely black pleather couch. My mom swore people couldn't tell the difference, but they could. Before they'd even sat down. Justin didn't seem to mind though. He said, "Cool couch."

I just blinked.

Justin laughed. "So what's the deal with Blake and Ted? Are they just a hustler and his john, or are they more?"

I went to our olive-green fridge and grabbed a couple generic brand root beers (from Justin's vantage point, he could see our miniature kitchen, what passed as a dining room, with a rickety wooden table and three wobbly chairs, our cramped bathroom, our tiny hallway, and, even, both doors to our bedrooms).

When I returned, I handed him one and sat down. "Well, Ted pays for it, but, yeah, they love each other."

"Ted doesn't mind that Blake lets other guys fuck him for money?"

"He's asked Blake to move in with him a bunch of times. He has a nice house, from what I hear."

Justin's eyes widened. "Why hasn't he? You said that Blake loves Ted, right?"

"Sure, but he's a hustler. He doesn't know how to do anything else, and he doesn't want to be a kept man."

Justin frowned. "What's so wrong about Ted wanting to take care of Blake? As it is, he pays him for sex."

"Yeah, but it's not the same. It's not like Blake is homeless or living in an abandoned building. He's got a decent place. And Ted may contribute to his rent, but Blake isn't completely dependent on him. Even without Ted's business, he'd be okay. He got that apartment before they met. And what the fuck would Blake be if he moved with Ted into a suburb? His live-in boy toy? He'd be completely dependent on Ted, cut off from everyone. Something tells me that Blake and Ted's upscale neighbors wouldn't have much in common. I suppose he could have his current friends over for tea, well, except that they all sling it on the corner all night, pass out at dawn, and sleep till dark. And I doubt any of them drink tea."

Justin swallowed hard. I sighed and looked down. Thinking about Ted and Blake was depressing. I might not be a 'sex worker,' but my mom was, and I lived in a neighborhood peopled by other 'sex workers.' Justin lived in a posh loft, and, based on what Debbie and Mel had said, he was well on his way to becoming famous, if he wasn't already. His bathroom was almost as big as this apartment, but much nicer. From Justin's reaction to the fight between Shirley and her pimp and to Ted and Blake's situation, I could tell he would want to 'save me.' But I didn't want a savior. Or a sugar daddy. I wanted a boyfriend. And one who saw me as a man. Not as an at-risk youth.

Suddenly Justin smiled and patted me on the leg. "So show me your room." Then he waggled his eyebrows seductively. I couldn't help but smile.

*************

Brian's room was miniscule. Maybe 100 square feet. It had a white and gray linoleum floor and bare white walls. It was in desperate need of a paint job (there were smudges and stains littered along the wall). I clenched my fists a couple of times and forced myself to smile. But it just got worse and worse. Brian slept on a cot. It had a soft, though thin, mattress. Brian had a rack (one most people would have put in a bathroom) with three shelves (two of which were crooked) next to his bed, a few books on it, a child's folding table (with a picture of Spiderman on it) that barely came up to Brian's knees when he was standing, a beat up dresser, a short brass lamp with a ruby-red shade sitting on it, a rickety rocking chair, and an old laptop and a small fan that sat atop the Spiderman table. The fan was directed at the laptop's keyboard. It must have cooling problems, like most older laptops. When they got too hot, they just shut down. There was one window (with an electric pencil sharpener and a coffee cup filled with pencils and bic pens on the wide sill), but the window had horizontal bars and no screen. Moths of varying types (one green, one brown, and one white), a few flies, and a few bugs I couldn't identify glided in circles, flew from surface to surface, and hopped around. It was fucking wild kingdom in here!

I sat on Brian's cot, which was enveloped in a caramel-colored sheet that was clearly too big and two afghans. He had two pillows, but neither had pillowcases. From here, I could see into the closet. It contained a football and a soccer ball, as well as a book bag full of, I imagined, schoolbooks, a pair of khakis that looked like they'd seen better days, a white button-down shirt, and a beat-up navy suit coat. I grimaced. But when I looked over at Brian and realized he was watching me, I smiled.

Brian cast his eyes down, his face turning crimson. That wrenched my heart. Brian wasn't exactly the blushing type. He must be humiliated. He mumbled, "I told you it was a dump."

I protested, "No, no, it's…."

Brian leveled me with a blank stare.

I laughed. "Okay. It's a dump."

I said lightly, "But it has the essentials." I needed to get his mind off of his shabby room, so I pushed Brian down onto the bed and climbed on top of him. Before I knew it, my sheathed and lubed cock was buried deep inside Brian, his legs on my shoulders, and me on my knees. I'd never snuck anyone into my bedroom when I was in high school, so fucking a high school kid in his bed when his mom could return at any time was a major turn on. And with the way Brian was writhing against me and moaning my name, I knew there was no way I would last long. I breathed, "Don't cum yet, Brian. Okay. Don't cum. I want my lips wrapped tightly around your cock when your orgasm tears through you."

Brian didn't reply, not in words, but he bit his lip and nodded. Then Brian squeezed my dick from the inside. Hard. While he did that, he reached behind me and squeezed my ass. Then he groaned, desperate desire in his eyes, "Fuck, you have the perfect ass! How can anyone be so fucking beautiful. Oh fuck me, Justin." That did it. My eyes widened, and I froze as my orgasm poured out of me. A few seconds later, I was sucking Brian's cock like a cum-hungry crack whore (I think Brian's environment was having an effect on me), Brian bucking, thrusting the tip of his cock into my throat. When I swallowed around it, he came with a deep body moan.

Then Brian was in my arms. We were spooning, but that wasn't enough 'togetherness' for me. No. I had my legs wrapped around him, too, and my head was buried in the crook of his neck. After a few minutes of silent post-orgasmic bliss-inspired snuggling, I asked, "So what do you do for fun, I mean, while you're home."

Brian shrugged. "Sometimes I watch porn. My mom hates paying for the Internet, but it saves her having to buy me presents."

"What?"

"That was the deal. She'd pay for the Internet, but that counts for birthday and Christmas presents."

I swallowed hard and held Brian a little tighter.

"So was the laptop part of the deal?"

"Fuck, no. I watched my sister's little monsters on weekends until I finally saved enough for a second-hand computer."

"You have a sister?"

"Yeah, and she's got two boys."

"She married?"

Brian looked over his shoulder, so I could see his face and quirked an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

"A boyfriend?"

"Guess again."

"A fuck buddy?"

Brian chuckled. "Not even. She's a hooker like my mom. My nephews' fathers, two different guys, were tricks. She doesn't even know which ones knocked her up."

My eyes widened.

In an even voice that I found exceedingly unnerving, given the topic, Brian related, "She made the mistake of trying to narrow it down the first time. Most of her johns are married and already have kids…when she mentioned the pregnancy to one of the possible fathers, he beat the shit out of her."

"Oh my God! Was she okay? Did she press charges?"

Brian shook his head. "Nah. She gives as good as she gets. She stabbed the mother fucker in the groin. She took out one of his balls."

"Holy shit!"

"Yeah. The bastard didn't even press charges. He didn't want his love of prostitutes to get back to his wife. Needless to say, for pregnancy number two, she didn't bother trying to figure out who the daddy was."

"Wow!"

Brian shrugged. "That's life."

Not if I had anything to say about it. "Brian, do you really want me to paint you?"

Brian smiled softly. "If you want to."

"Oh I want to. Think you're up to a few hours of posing naked for me?"

"Fuck, yeah."

"This time, leave a note. I'm kidnapping you until Sunday night at the earliest, and I don't want your mom sending out the National Guard."

Brian chuckled. "Ted and Blake are hardly the National Guard." Brian rolled over onto his back and looked at me, his eyes dancing. He was smiling so brightly. I was screwed. Royally screwed. Making him smile filled me with such joy that I felt like I was floating. I shook my head. I was really doing this. Come what may, I was in. All in.

TBC…


	15. The Dinner Party, Part 1

Justin's POV

I was so nervous. But I was determined. I wanted to show Brian part of my world, to share it with him really. Unfortunately, I wasn't naïve or stupid. Either way, I was entering dangerous territory. If I did not bring Brian into contact with people in my world, he might think I was ashamed of him. If I did, the people in my world might deride him and/or our relationship, making him believe that he didn't belong with me. But I was never one to back down from a challenge, to hide from problems. My daring, my bravery, was one of the reasons I'd become famous. I put everything out there. Always. Come what may. Plus, as I'd observed at the diner that morning, Brian was unflappable. He wouldn't simply let people talk down to him, but give it right back.

So we were in my little kitchen preparing hors d'oeuvres for a small impromptu gathering we had decided to hold. I watched Brian peeling hard-boiled eggs for the deviled eggs with caviar and smiled brightly. Brian was half-naked, in only a pair of short shorts I had lent him, his skin and hair still damp from the shower after the most delicious afternoon of fucking. He was so focused on this task that he saw and heard nothing else (in the couple days I had known Brian, he could feel my gaze, almost immediately, when I was staring at him, which, I did quite often, for Brian was beautiful, an object of both my artistic eye and my nearly overwhelming desire, always fixing me with one of his own intense gazes in response).

I moved behind Brian and slid my arms around his waist, burying my face in his neck.

Brian looked back at me and smiled softly before asking, "Why are we doing this again?"

I purred into his ear, "I want to show you off."

Brian chuckled. "Am I a poodle?"

I replied, still purring, "No…you are my very sexy and intelligent boyfriend. I want my friends and family to get to know you."

More seriously, Brian said, "That didn't go so well this morning."

I turned Brian in my arms (he had finished peeling the last egg), caressed his cheeks, and then kissed his lips gently. "You're a part of my world now (Brian swallowed hard). Like it or not, they're going to have to get used to it. And the sooner the better. Besides, not all of my friends are so closed minded."

I ran my fingers through Brian's hair, moaned softly, and then pulled him closer. In a split second, my lips were on his, my tongue in his mouth, exploring and ravaging. Fuck! I couldn't seem to get enough of Brian. With him, I was insatiable. The next thing I knew, I was pulling my shorts off of him and falling to my knees, licking and gently sucking his balls, breathing in his musky, yet sweet scent, teasing his slit with my tongue, licking and then sucking on the head of his cock, and, finally, deepthroating him. I couldn't help but smile a little when he fell back in surprise and grabbed the counter behind him with both hands, holding on for dear life, panting, moaning, and then calling out my name. Over and over. I sucked and swallowed like a madman until he shot his load down my throat. He let out a deep body moan as I eagerly gulped down his cum. The entire time I was blowing him, he watched me with half-lidded eyes and a loving, yet lusty gaze. Fucking irresistible! Once Brian's orgasm ceased shuddering through him, I stood, spun him around, and bent him over the counter. All in one fluid movement. Thankfully, Brian was just to the right of the plate of eggs. Mere seconds later, my sheathed, lubed cock was pushing inside his tight hole. I threw back my head and groaned. Nothing I'd ever experienced could compare to this. I licked, sucked, and nibbled on the back of his neck and his earlobes as I thrust. When Brian starting pushing back and squeezing my cock from the inside, I moaned a moan that was more animal than human and teased, "You are such a slut for my cock, aren't you?"

He chanted softly, "Yes, yes, fuck, yes…"

I was even more incensed then. Something in his voice drove me wild. It was akin to vulnerability, but not like any I had ever witnessed. It was bare and raw. As though he were fully cognizant of his weakness, his overwhelming desire for me to fuck him, to possess him, to love him, but he wasn't in any way ashamed. He was sharing it with me willingly, offering that weakness, that desire, up to me, even as he offered me his body. He was trusting me with everything, giving me everything, without reservation. Even joyfully. That risk, that submission, was a gift and a dare and a huge turn on for him (if his reawakening cock, now hard as a rock and leaking, were any indication), and for me. I slid my hands up his sweat-slick chest, pulling him closer even as I continued to move inside him, now shallowly, and whispered huskily in his ear, "Never leave."

Brian's response was so soft that I barely heard it. He breathed, "Never…never."

Brian's POV

About twenty people, men and women, young and old, were milling about the loft, chatting and nibbling on hors d'oeuvres.

But I could see only one (besides Justin). Seth. He was tall yet muscular, with a broad, thick chest and light brown hair. Gorgeous by anyone's standards. He had a low, sexy voice, and, from what I could tell (he was wearing tight pants), a huge cock. I stood across the room from Justin and Seth trying not to gape, trying not to stare too obviously, wishing I knew what they were saying, but, as yet, unwilling to go over there. I wasn't stupid. I had already revealed my deep jealousy and possessiveness, and I'd felt (and most likely looked) ridiculous. Seth was probably just a friend (though his desire for Justin was obvious). I couldn't exactly demand that Justin only befriend trolls. Daphne was saying something to me, but I wasn't listening hard enough to make out individual words. It was like I was talking to Charlie Brown's mother. Or rather, like Charlie Brown's mother were talking to me. Until Daphne said the one word I cared about. Seth. I turned toward her (though still keeping one eye on Seth and Justin) and asked, "What?"

She laughed. "I thought that that might get your attention."

I just stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "He and Justin used to be lovers."

My entire body tightened.

"For two months, Seth was all Justin talked about." Daphne rolled her eyes and then continued, "How gorgeous he was, how big his cock was, what a great lover he was, how sweet he was, blah, blah, blah."

I couldn't take much more 'sharing.' I prodded, desperately hoping she'd start in on his flaws, on what went wrong, "And then…"

She sighed. "And then they moved in together."

I clenched my jaw. That was a fucking lovely picture. Seth pounding Justin over and over, night after night, while playing house.

I actually stammered, "How…how long?"

"Two months."

I raised an eyebrow (and breathed a sigh of relief).

Daphne glared at Seth and them looked back at me. She hissed, "He's an arrogant asshole. Around the time they moved in together, Justin had just had his first show. The art critics loved his work, and the show sold out. Suddenly, Justin had more money than Seth did. Suddenly, he was more successful. Seth didn't take that too well. He constantly criticized Justin and started fights over the littlest thing. Then he started complaining that Justin spent too much time painting and not enough time with Seth. He accused Justin of not really caring about him, of not being serious about their relationship. Justin was kind of a workaholic even then; he always has been. He felt bad, so he started spending less time in the studio. One night, he decided to surprise Seth. He came home early with a bouquet of roses and a picnic basket he'd put together in his new studio, this loft, in fact. Unfortunately, Seth wasn't the only one who was surprised. Justin walked in to find two hot Greek stewards pleasuring Seth. One was blowing him while the other was rimming him."

My eyes widened. "What did he do?"

Daphne laughed. "He pitched the picnic basket at him and then started beating him over the head with the bouquet. Seth's face wasn't so pretty for a while, you know, with all the scratches from the thorns."

I laughed, and hard. Then I exclaimed, "Damn!"

Daphne giggled. "Yeah, that's classic Justin. He's giving, but no doormat. Seth begged for forgiveness, claiming that he loved Justin and had simply made a mistake (that caused my chest to constrict, my heart stubbornly refusing to beat; had Justin loved Seth?), but Justin was done with him the moment he saw him with the two Greek guys. He realized then that all his promises, all his sweet words, had been bullshit. He couldn't handle Justin's success. For Seth, worship was a one-way street. He was used to guys throwing themselves at him, at being the one in the limelight. At the end of the day, he cared far more about himself than anyone else."

"What does he do?"

"He's a minor celebrity. An actor on a soap opera."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from frowning and asked as evenly as I could, "Why does Justin still talk to him?"

"He usually doesn't. For years, Seth has been trying to find a way around the lockdown Justin put him on…"

"Lockdown?"

Daphne explained, "Justin froze him out. He refused to be anywhere that Seth was, changed all the locks, you know, for the apartment they shared, which Justin had rented, and his studio, changed his cell number and his phone number, and directed family and friends not to speak to him, at least not about Justin. Justin hasn't seen him since the night he found him with the two Greek guys. Not until tonight."

"How long has it been?"

"Five years."

My eyes widened. "It's been five years, and Seth still wants Justin?"

Daphne nodded.

"Then why is he here now?"

"He came with an acquaintance of Justin's, Mark; he wasn't around when Justin and Seth broke up. Seth's appearance was undoubtedly a surprise."

"Why not simply toss him out?"

"Justin doesn't want to offend Mark. Seth is quite charming and a snake. Mark probably has no clue what a sleaze Seth is."

I set my drink down and started toward Justin and Seth. I was berating myself internally. I'd been so jealous that I'd missed how tight Justin's face was, how defensive his posture, the fact that his smiles didn't reach his eyes.

Suddenly Daphne grabbed my arm, turning me back to face her. She whispered, her voice soft, but filled with fear and anxiety, "Wait, where are you going?"

I smiled, but my eyes were dark. "To introduce myself to Seth. It would be remiss of me not to. So says Heloise anyway."

Daphne's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Oh God! Please don't cause a scene. Justin would be so pissed at me for telling you."

I just grinned. She groaned.


	16. The Dinner Party, Part 2

**Justin's POV**

I had been so thrown by Seth's appearance that I hadn't even thought about Brian. But now he was walking toward me. I couldn't help but smile. Brian smiled back (a soft smile), but then his smile disappeared, and his face became impassive, not happy, sad, or angry. Completely expressionless. That should have worried me, but I was just relieved to see him and, a moment later, to have him in my arms (he was leaning against me, and I had my arms around his waist, my face buried in his neck).

Seeing Seth again after so long had brought up a bevy of unpleasant feelings and thoughts. Doubts. Seth had betrayed me, which stung my pride even now, but the worst part was knowing that I had gone out of my way to please him, was that I had felt so guilty and horrible about myself (in terms of how I treated him), only to discover that he was the one who had taken our relationship lightly (that was the accusation he lobbed at me most often). I had thought of myself as part of a _we_ and had been willing to sacrifice to make our relationship work, whereas he had only thought of himself as an _I_ and took everything I would give him and then some. I hated my stupidity. I mean, if I had not found him with the two stewards, who knows how long I would have killed myself to please him or what else I would have given up, how much more of my self-esteem I would have let Seth erode?

My relationship with Seth, and its aftermath, was a perfect example of why I felt ambivalent about love and relationships. Deep down, I still wanted to give all of myself to someone, to connect with another in every conceivable way, but relationships could suck the life out of you, and, then, _then_, when they were over, even when it was for the best, even when it hadn't been _in love_ love, true love, but love just the same, you were left with sadness, a cold emptiness, and an ache that took so long to dull, as well as burning questions and chilling doubts. Did I try hard enough? Sure he hurt me, but did I deserve it, did I precipitate his mistakes? Am I fundamentally unlovable? In the end, relationships left you with holes, holes in your heart, holes in your self-esteem, holes in your belief in love. Eventually, you stopped giving all of yourself. Eventually, you always made sure to hold something back, to protect yourself, to prepare for the end. Because it would come just as surely as the sun would rise. Eventually, you knew that.

Then it was suddenly a game. Everyone rushing to prove that the other had meant nothing all along and less than nothing now. That moving on was a snap and a pleasure. Yes, Seth had begged my forgiveness for his indiscretion, but when it wasn't forthcoming (I think he waited a week), he didn't hesitate to fuck everyone who'd drop trow for him. And he'd been fucking other men while we were together. I may have been the one to break up, technically, but he'd left me long before then. Who knows how long before? He might never have really given anything of himself to me. He might always have been fucking other men. I sighed. Why did either person need to win? Why did winning, sullying something that had meant so much to us once upon a time, matter? Why did it seem to be the only thing that mattered? Why couldn't we remember the good times and mourn their loss openly, honestly?

As scared as I was, I decided then and there that my feelings for and my relationship with Brian would never be a game. I would give him all of me, come what may, and, if our relationship ended, I wouldn't dismiss anything. I wouldn't lie to myself or anyone else about what he'd meant to me. Love, especially if it was true love, was no game. No joke. I was so tired of pretending. Thankfully, Brian seemed equally unwilling to pretend when it came to me. That was so refreshing. If he was jealous, he acted jealous. If he was hurt, he acted hurt. If he was happy, he acted happy.

I was so absorbed in my own thoughts (and Brian's neck) that I hadn't realized that Brian and Seth had been staring each other down the entire time I was contemplating love and relationships.

Seth's hiss brought me out of my head. "You're robbing the cradle now?"

Brian chuckled, but he crossed his arms, too. "Youth has its advantages, particularly the high sex drive, the short refractory periods, and the seemingly endless stores of energy. "

I couldn't help but giggle at that. Those were most definitely advantages that came with having Brian as a boyfriend, but, based on them, I could have chosen any twink. He had so much more to offer than stamina. I nudged his chin with a finger until he was looking into my eyes, and then, I whispered huskily, "I hope you know that's not why I'm with you. Your stamina is incredible, and a great pleasure, but that's the least of your good qualities."

I smiled when I heard Brian's sharp intake of breath. God, I wanted to drag Brian somewhere private and fuck him, fuck him all night long. I had half a mind to send my guests away without serving them dinner. But Brian and I had gone to the trouble of inviting them and cooking, so, twenty minutes later, we were all sitting at two huge dining tables I'd borrowed. Much to my chagrin (and Mark and Brian's chagrin I imagined), Seth parked himself next to me (Brian was on my other side, and Mark on Seth's).

**Brian's POV**

Seth smiled coldly and asked, "So Brian, what is it that you do?"

I stiffened at first, but then forced myself to smile. Perhaps it was more of a smirk. I looked over at Justin. He was smiling, but the smile didn't quite meet his eyes. I replied (clenching and unclenching a fist beneath the tabletop to keep my voice even), "Nothing yet. I'm still in school."

"College?"

I didn't even blink. "High school." I desperately wanted to look at Justin, to look into his eyes and at the expression on his face, to attempt to determine the answer to the questions that plagued me since that morning. Was he ashamed of me? Was I an embarrassment? So afraid of the answers, I couldn't bring myself to turn toward Justin.

Seth had no such fear. He turned toward Justin eagerly and raised an eyebrow, an amused look on his face. The other guests, who had been listening even as they chatted with each other, now fell silent.

I flinched when Seth hissed, "What the hell could you possibly have in common with a high school kid?"

My chest constricted, and I felt a little faint. What the fuck was wrong with me? I had never responded like this to an asshole before. Deep down, I knew that Seth wasn't causing my discomfort. My reaction was only marginally different from others I had been experiencing in sharp succession since I had met Justin (though most were primarily pleasant, as though my senses were just awakening from a long slumber). For the first time in my life, I was…afraid. It was one thing for Justin to present me as his boyfriend at a dinner party, but quite another to do so in the face of taunting. Justin had not let what his closest friends said this morning bother him too much, though he was angry with them, but this dinner party was a far cry from the diner. Justin's agent was there. Gallery owners and other artists were there. Justin's mother was there (mercifully, she had arrived late, so Justin hadn't had the chance to introduce me to her before dinner). Humiliation in this context was keener and might have terrible consequences for Justin's career.

After the most uncomfortable silence I had ever experienced, I risked a glance in Justin's direction. Justin had started to answer Seth's question. He'd said simply, "Maybe nothing." I needed, like I'd never needed anything in my life, to see the look in his eyes, the expression on his face. Justin's face was tight, but his eyes flashed with anger and determination. I felt that flash in my cock. Justin shrugged. Then he continued, just as evenly, though now with a hint of amusement in his voice, "But I've already done guys that seemed perfect for me on paper. They ended up being scum bags."

Seth clenched his jaw. I couldn't help but look at Seth a bit smugly. Justin glanced at me and chuckled. Then Seth inquired, "Are you sure you're not just seeking out people who can't steal the spotlight from you?"

Justin stiffened. He replied archly, "I think you're confusing yourself with me. I don't give a shit about things like that. I never did. I would be genuinely happy for my partner if he outshone me."

Seth glared at Brian and hissed, "Partner? He's just a fucking kid!"

I stiffened, but said nothing. Justin snapped, "He's already more of a man than any of my previous boyfriends ever were, more of a man than they'll ever be."

Seth harrumphed and turned back to his food.

Justin smiled and chirped brightly, "In fact, he's not just my boyfriend, my partner. He's also my muse. The first I've ever had in the flesh."

He stood then and walked over to a canvas that was covered by a white sheet. That was the painting of me he'd made that afternoon in between mind-blowing fucks. Most people would have been embarrassed. After all, it depicted me lying naked on Justin's red chaise. But I wasn't most people. I knew that I had an incredible body. I had a huge cock, and I was pretty buff for a tall, thin, seventeen-year-old (Every other day, I went to the gym with some of the older hustlers in my building). But more than that, better than that, was Justin's interpretation. It was hard to explain, to describe. The figure in the painting looked exactly like me, but the mixture of colors, the broad sweeps, and the tiny, intricate brush work made it seem as though something were swirling inside me, in my body, in my eyes, as though something amazing were emerging, as though I were ethereal, otherworldly.

Seth gaped for a moment (all the other guests were gaping, too, but they were smiling). Then he gasped, "You painted him…"

For a moment, Justin's eyes grew cold. He actually hissed then, "Yes, Seth, I painted _him_."

I was startled by Seth's strange reaction. For the first time that night (and I guessed one of the handful of times in his life), he was unsettled. His eyes glistened, and he paled. He tried to turn back to his food, but his hands shook, causing a cacophonous series of clanks as his silverware hit his plate. Finally, he gave up attempting to look and act normal. He jumped to his feet and stormed out, pushing Justin roughly on his way by. That just made Justin laugh. God, I loved that warm, musical laugh. All the guests stood to examine the painting. After Justin's mother and Justin's agent had done so, nodding and beaming in pride, they cornered him and asked in an urgent, concerned voice, almost simultaneously, "Is he legal?"

Justin laughed his warm musical laugh once more and approached me, pulling me to a standing position, wrapping his arms around my waist, and nuzzling my neck. Then, he replied brightly, his lips still against my skin, "Yes. He's 17."

Justin's mother and his agent both sighed in relief (with their entire bodies). The sight was so comical that Justin started giggling. I smiled one of my soft smiles. The dinner party hadn't been so bad. That is, until Justin's mother and his agent turned their probing questions on me.

"Do you plan to sit for other paintings?"

"How did you meet?"

"Would you consider attending openings? You'd make quite a stir!"

"Do you love my son?"

The nightmare, I realized, had just begun.


	17. Missing You, Part 1

Justin's POV

I felt like a teenager again. I'd been moody and miserable for two days cause I missed my boyfriend. Wait. I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me back up.

The dinner party ran so late that Brian actually fell asleep before all the guests had left (Some of them are big partiers. They had me up drinking until 6am). So I stumbled toward the bed at dawn, and, then, I was so tipsy that seeing the lump in my bed (Brian's sleeping form covered in my duvet), but no face (cause he was all covered up), I worried that it might not be Brian and stopped (my trek to the bed). I decided that I'd better not risk climbing into bed with a stranger (cause that would hurt Brian) and turned back toward the chaise. Then Brian stirred and poked his head out from under the duvet. He muttered sleepily, "Where ya going?"

I was so pleasantly surprised (I have no idea where I thought Brian would be if not in my bed or who I thought would be in my bed if not Brian…) that I swung back around too fast and nearly toppled over onto the floor. Fortunately, I managed to grab the edge of the bed. I beamed brightly and hauled my drunk ass onto the end. Then I slipped under the duvet (still at the end) and crawled up to the front. When I finally made it, I flipped onto my back awkwardly. Brian didn't seem fazed by my gracelessness. He just curled up onto my chest and went back to sleep. I wrapped my arms around Brian and buried my face in his hair. I whispered, "Smells so good" even as I floated into dreamland.

I awoke to a horrible hangover and an empty bed. I barely managed to get up. I was walking around like a zombie, one hand held out to be sure I didn't run into anything, my eyes shut tight against the bright sun, and my other hand on my aching head. When I finally made it to the counter, I opened one eye halfway. There was a note. An evil, evil (but thoughtful) note.

Justin,

I forgot that I was supposed to have lunch with Manny and Ben. Take the aspirin and drink the entire bottle of water and then get back to bed. Email me at when you're feeling human again.

Later,

Brian

He'd left out a bottle of water and aspirin. So sweet. The bottle was still cold, but sweating. I ran my finger down the length of it and sighed. I must have just missed Brian. I followed his instructions, swallowing the aspirin and slamming the water before stumbling back to bed.

When I awoke the second time, to my phone ringing off the hook, it was dark. The phone call was from my agent. He said that I had to fly to New York to meet with a gallery owner who wanted to exhibit my work. He'd been trying to get me an exhibit there for months (it was a famous, albeit small, gallery that could 'do wonders for my career'), so I whipped off a quick email to Brian and started packing. My agent had booked me a late flight (the meeting was in the morning). Then after the meeting, my agent told me that I needed to stay until the next day. There were people I 'just had to meet' that would be at a cocktail party the next night. I grumbled a lot, but I ended up staying. Worse yet, I left my laptop at home (I was in a rush when I packed), so I had no way of emailing Brian. Of course, Brian didn't give me his number (probably because he didn't want his mom talking to me). So after the cocktail party, I was back at the hotel, lying in bed naked, without Brian's sexy voice to bring me off. I decided then and there that I needed to purchase him a cell phone ASAP, and, then, I jerked off to memories of our afternoon sex marathon three days ago.

TBC…


	18. Missing You, Part 2

Brian's POV

I was sitting in study hall trying to do my math homework, but I couldn't concentrate. All I could think about was Justin. He'd told me that he was going to New York City to meet a gallery owner and that he thought he'd be back by Tuesday, but it was already Wednesday, and I still hadn't heard from him. I was starting to get nervous. Was I simply a weekend fling? No. That couldn't be. He'd already introduced me to his friends and even his mom. Why would he bother if I was just a fling? I didn't ask or expect him to do any of that. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to imagine what we'd do when we saw each other again. I smiled. I was picturing myself riding Justin, who was sitting on his motorcycle dressed all in leather, when a whiny nasally voice broke my concentration. I rolled my eyes when I saw that Mikey had moved to the empty seat next to mine. Fuck. I hadn't even realized that he was in my study hall.

Mikey was grinning and saying, "Hi, Brian! Are you sleeping?"

I sighed. "If I was, I wouldn't be now. What do you want?"

Mikey shrugged. "Just saying hi."

I deadpanned. "You've said hi; now you can scurry back to wherever you came from." I waved my hand to drive the point home.

Mikey frowned. "You don't have to be an asshole."

I smirked. "Yes, yes, I do."

Mikey ignored me. He rambled on. "So my mom said that uncle Justin had a dinner party. Did you go?"

"Yes."

Mikey looked at me with admiration in his eyes. "Wow! You're so lucky! Was Seth Branigan there? He's on one of my mom's soaps. He's SO HOT! And uncle Justin went out with him! Cool, huh? I wonder what he looks like naked. Could you tell if he had a, you know…" Mikey's voice dropped to a whisper. "…if he was well endowed?"

I would have been pissed (Seth was far from my favorite person. Just hearing his name made me want to punch someone), but Mikey sounded so dopey and cute when he was enthralled. So I threw him a bone, though it pained me to do it. "Yes, his cock appeared to be quite large. Not as big as mine, but maybe seven inches."

Mikey's eyes widened. In an even more excited voice, he asked, "Did you guys have a three-way?"

I had the urge to retort, "Fuck no," but I thought it more prudent to probe Mikey for information instead. He could undoubtedly tell me all about Justin's exes and former sexual practices. In fact, he was probably dying to share. Part of me was screaming, "Forget it. You don't want to know!" And I didn't, but, at the same time, I felt like I needed to know. At the very least so I wasn't taken by surprise, like I was on Saturday.

As evenly as I could manage, I inquired, "Why do you ask?"

Mikey nearly dissolved into a fit of giggles. "Uh because uncle Justin is a super stud. He's fucked SO many guys, and he's been in TONS of three-ways, four-ways, and orgies."

I clenched a fist under the desk and then poured all of my willpower into appearing relaxed. I raised an eyebrow and asked, "How would you know?"

"I hear him talking to Em and Daphne at the diner sometimes. He tells them about all his conquests."

I didn't even have to prod Mikey. He just went on and on. "He's been with tons of rich, famous guys, and they were all older than him. I think he likes older guys."

I clenched my fist even harder. So hard that my nails were digging into my skin.

"Like who?"

"Let's see. A few months ago, he was fucking a super hot racecar driver. He won some big race last year. What was it…Oh…the Winston Cup, I think. Anyway. He was this tall muscular guy, broad shoulders, so gorgeous. I overheard uncle Justin telling Em that this guy gave the best head and loved it when he fucked him. He'd actually beg for it. He even let uncle Justin drive his car on the track once."

Suddenly I couldn't breathe, and I felt like I was gonna puke. I could actually picture it. Justin bending some top in racing gear over the hood of his car, alternately pounding him and caressing his skin gently or softly running his fingers through this guy's hair. Kissing him so deeply that the guy felt a little faint, his heart fluttering. Justin was this odd combination of rough and sweet, experienced and innocent. I found it fucking irresistible. Surely other guys did, too. Justin…attracted to a thrill seeker who went very, very fast. I couldn't blame him. When I first saw Justin on his bike, I nearly came right then. And when I first rode with him on it…going so fast, my arms wrapped tight around him, the smell of leather…

I swallowed hard. This had been a bad idea. A phenomenally bad idea. The worst idea I'd ever had. I didn't want to know anything else about Justin's sexual history. He was beautiful, hotter than hell, talented, intelligent, charming…Guys had probably lined up to have his dick inside them. My stomach lurched at that thought.

When I tuned back into Mikey, he was saying, "My mom thinks you're the product of a mid-life crisis. He's like almost thirty, you know…so she thinks dating you is a way to make himself feel younger."

Didn't this kid ever shut up? I was seriously going to be ill. Mercifully, the bell rang then. I thanked a God I didn't believe in that this study hall was my last class. I didn't even say goodbye. I just threw my math book into my bag and ran out. I ran so fast that I was the first one out of the building. But I didn't even make it all the way down the steps. Right in front of the building was Justin. He was sitting on his bike. When he saw me, he smiled one of his million-watt smiles, and his eyes lit up. It took everything in me not to run. I was so relieved that he hadn't forgotten me, that I wasn't just a fling. But Brian Kinney didn't run to any man, not even one he was madly in love with.

However, I did smile as I approached. I couldn't help it. I might not be a soap actor or a racecar driver, but Justin was drawn to me all the same. He looked so happy when his eyes lighted on me, and he'd braved a school-full of teenagers just to see me. If he was looking to feel younger, he wouldn't have come anywhere near my school. The contrast between him and the kids here was so stark, it could only make him feel old. Fuck Mikey and Debbie. I wasn't a conquest or the 'product of a mid-life crisis.' I was just Brian, a stupid high school kid with no money or skills, but he liked me.


	19. Missing You, Part 3

Brian's POV

Justin purred, "Hey. Wanna ride?"

I grinned. "You read my mind."

Justin handed me his extra helmet, which had been resting on his lap. Something about him sitting on his bike waiting, his extra helmet out and ready for me…it was such a small thing, but it made my chest ache a little, except that it was a good ache this time, so far from what I'd experienced back in study hall. After donning the helmet, I climbed up on the bike behind Justin and slid my arms around him. As we sped off, I looked back at the school. Mikey was standing on the steps, his eyes as wide as saucers, his mouth gaping. I couldn't help but smile. I even showed teeth.

I spent the next ten minutes holding onto Justin…the wind whipping against my clothes…feeling his leather jacket beneath my fingers…his warmth emanating outward and flowing into me as I molded my body against his. I fucking loved it. So much so that my dick, which had began to stir the second I laid eyes on Justin, was now as hard as steel.

Justin must have felt my erection against his back because when we arrived at the loft (we hadn't even reached the parking garage; he'd stopped in the alley next to the building), he jumped down, pushed his helmet off carelessly (it fell to the ground), and slammed me against the nearest wall. I had pulled mine off as well, though I'd hung it on one of the handles, so the moment my back made contact with the wall, Justin's hands were in my hair, pulling me close even as he ravished my lips with his own. He thrust his tongue into my mouth and kissed me passionately and a bit ferociously, bruising my lips with the force of the kiss and even nibbling on my lips periodically. I moaned low in my throat and grabbed his ass, squeezing it even as I pulled his groin to mine by it, rubbing our erections together. Justin drew his breath in sharply. Then he pulled back a little and whispered huskily, "I can't wait. I need to be inside you right the fuck now."

Before I knew it, we were both naked, Justin was straddling his bike, and I was straddling him, using the handles to lift myself up as I rode his cock. Justin was so fucking hot, his blond hair and light skin set against metal and leather, his eyes heavy with desire, his skin flushed. When he wet his lips and then bit the lower one in an attempt to stifle a soft moan, I almost came. Then he was kissing me again, even more savagely than before and muttering (when he came up for air), "I missed you…so…fucking much…missed this…oh fuck…so tight…perfect." On the last few words, I could no longer hold back. I was so close. I grabbed my dick, but Justin growled and pushed my hand away. He squeezed my dick, hard, just once, and then I was splattering buckets of cum all over his chest. He let out an inhuman groan, grabbed my ass, and pulled me down, impaling me on his shaft once more. Then he was cumming, too, his face buried in my neck. A moment later, panting, he whispered, "Fucking amazing." I just smiled.

After we disengaged, Justin threw his jeans and shoes back on and went to park (and wipe down) his bike. When he returned I was wearing my jeans and shoes, too, but my shirt had taken some collateral cum damage, so I was bare to the waist. Justin smiled and then slid his leather jacket on me. He smiled even more brightly and said, "You look fucking hot in my leather." Then he grabbed my bag, took me by the hand, and led me inside.

After showering, exchanging blowjobs, and dressing more comfortably (both of us wearing shorts and nothing else), we started making dinner, fish and stir fried vegetables.

Justin asked cheerfully, "So tell me about school."

I froze. Don't get me wrong, it was sweet of Justin to ask, but I had a hard time believing that he'd find descriptions of teachers or other kids interesting. I was barely interested in anything school related, and I was actually in school. Plus, I wasn't thrilled about highlighting our age difference.

When I didn't answer right away, Justin looked up from the onions he was slicing. "Brian?"

I just stared at him blankly, as if to say, "Are you fucking serious?"

Justin laughed. "I want to know you, and, right now, school's part of your life. So tell me."

I frowned.

Justin smiled. "That bad?"

I shrugged. "Mostly I find it boring."

"There isn't any subject you like?"

"I kind of like my public speaking class."

"What about it do you like?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm just good at presenting topics in the right way, you know, making persuasive arguments.

Justin chuckled. "This I believe. Do you have a debate club at school?"

I nodded.

"You should consider joining. I bet you'd be amazing."

I shook my head. "I don't know…I'm not much of a joiner. I'm kind of a loner."

As Justin threw the vegetables in the skillet, which sizzled in the melted butter, he said brightly, "There's nothing better than excelling at something you love." Then he walked past me to get garlic and pepper from out of a cupboard. As he did so, he kissed my cheek and squeezed my ass. He laughed. "Well almost nothing."

After we'd eaten dinner and put the dishes in his little dishwasher, Justin took my hand and pulled me to the chaise. On it was sitting a box, neatly wrapped in royal blue paper. I sat down and picked up the box.

"What's this?"

Justin smiled, but he looked nervous. "Open it and find out."

I just stared at the gift for a moment. No one ever gave me presents. My chest was suddenly aching again. I looked back up at Justin, who gestured excitedly for me to go ahead. I hesitated for a moment and then began carefully unwrapping it.

It was a cell phone. Actually, two cell phones. They were both red. Now Justin was blushing and sitting next to me. "I got this idea from a Korean drama Daphne and I watched a while ago. One's for me, and the other's for you. I won't give anyone else my number, so when it rings, I'll know it's you. But you don't have to do that."

Justin was blushing even more furiously now and he was avoiding my eyes. "You can give your number to anyone you want…I just thought….well I'd like to be able to talk to you whenever, from wherever, and…I didn't know what color to get or what kind…this one has a keyboard for easier texting and a built-in camera/video recorder…"

I cut him off with a searing kiss. Then, unable to stop myself, I threw my arms around his neck and whispered huskily, "I love it. It's perfect."

I'm ashamed to say that, even though my eyes were shut tight (I was so touched that tears had sprung to my eyes), a tear escaped and rolled down Justin's neck. I was so afraid he'd think I was a freak. He was stunned for a moment, but then he wrapped his arms more tightly around me. I could feel him smiling against my skin.


	20. Wanting You, Part 1

I was crazy. I had never joined in any school activity in my entire life. But today, clearly brainwashed by yesterday's afternoon special with Justin (that and the afternoon/evening of fucking), I had actually gone to a debate club meeting. And then, _then_, I'd been randomly selected to argue _for_ gay marriage (the new "hot-button" issue). Unfortunately, I was against it. Ironic, huh? But I had my reasons. I thought marriage in general was for shit. Let the heteros have it. My father had promised never to part from my mother, not until death, anyway, but she was very much alive and he was not in the picture. Not by any means. And how many married men came to my neighborhood for a little something (pussy…dick…whatever) on the side? Making promises didn't equate to honoring them. And even when people did honor their vows, were they doing it sincerely, because they loved their spouse and wanted no one else, or were they doing it because they had promised…because their lives were so intertwined with that of their spouse that it would be a major inconvenience to split…or because they were used to life with their spouse (memories and time spent with someone else didn't equate to love, but few people knew that, or were willing to admit it if they did).

Later that evening, while Justin and I were making dinner (scratch that; Justin had done the cooking, but I was setting the table), I shared my misgivings. Justin seemed horrified. "Don't you want to be able to marry someday?"

I shrugged. "From what I've seen, marriage is bullshit. It's not that I don't want or believe in forever with somebody; I just think that marriage wrecks everything." Justin turned back to the stove. He was stirring something in a pot. It smelled delicious. Finished setting the table, I watched Justin, thinking, letting my mind drift over impossibilities. After a long moment of hesitating (trying to make my voice light), I asked, "If gays could marry, um…"

Justin swung around and looked at me expectantly. I swallowed hard, but then continued, "Would you want to?"

Justin's eyes widened. He seemed stunned for a minute, but, then, he smiled and approached me, sliding his arms around my waist, kissing my neck, and whispering, a hint of amusement to his voice, "Is that a proposal, Mr. Kinney?" The way he was looking at me had my heart beating so hard in my chest, I thought it might explode.

I stammered, "I didn't mean me specifically, you know, just in general."

Justin purred, though his voice now carried a hint of hurt, "Are you saying you _don't_ want to marry me?"

I blurted out, "No!" Fuck. I was constantly showing and saying more than I should. I wanted to be completely open with Justin, but, since the morning at the diner (after meeting Justin's closest friends and running into my mother), a nagging voice in the back of my head kept reminding me that the vulnerable got walked on and that being cool and aloof was more attractive than being eager and wide open. This voice just got louder after the dinner party. I didn't want Justin to see me as needy or as a kid, and I was afraid that saying all that I felt, all I seemed to know the moment I first looked into his eyes, would do just that.

Justin spun me around (we'd been standing perpendicular to each other, thank you so much Mr. Linden for teaching me that term in geometry), his eyes twinkling, and exclaimed in triumph, "Then you do!"

I looked down and mumbled (my mouth still running unfiltered), "If I married anyone, it'd be you…"

Justin smiled again, but now it was a shy smile. He asked softly, "Really?"

When I realized what I had admitted out loud, I actually blushed. I wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there forever. But instead, I tried to shift his attention elsewhere by looking up at him, a smirk on my face, and drawling, "You're good, Mr. Taylor. Very good. You've managed to dodge my question quite skillfully. Does that mean you're not the marrying kind?"

Justin released me and walked back over to the stove, probably to escape my questioning gaze. He shook his head. After what seemed like forever, he said, his voice close to a whisper, "If you'd asked me a week ago, I would have said that I wasn't, but now…"

I resisted the urge to prod, "Now…what?" Instead I just waited, though I was on pins and needles.

Finally, he continued, "Now I think I might be, for the right guy."

He turned to look at me then (on the last few words), and that look was so intense that it literally took my breath away.

"But whatever the case, I'd like the option. Marriage is supposedly the cornerstone of our society, and, as one of its members, I deserve to be allowed to participate, if I so desire."

"Opponents of gay marriage would say that you do, that you could marry a woman…"

"Well, they're idiots. They're the same people who say that marriage always meant the union of a man and a woman, but it often meant the union of a man and a girl, a man and several women and/or girls…"

Justin sighed heavily and shook his head once more, but this time, it seemed, to shake off his frustration and anger. Then he inquired, "So…what are you going to argue?"

"I'm not sure yet. I might argue that allowing gay marriage would bolster our economy. Some gay people have commitment ceremonies now, but more people would have ceremonies if they could marry for real, and they'd probably grow larger as gay marriage became more acceptable. In these dark economic times, that would mean a boost for many industries: they'd need flowers, designer clothes, catering services, alcohol, travel to and from the wedding for friends and relatives, travel for the grooms or brides to their honeymoon destination, rental space for the reception, music, a photographer, a videographer, invitations, and hundreds of household items for gifts. Allowing gay marriage would probably also boost the housing market. And after gay people started marrying, they'd probably start buying luxury items that neither person could afford alone, like fine art, antiques, boats and summer homes. That might already be true for committed gay couples, but it would probably happen on a larger scale if they knew that no one could take these things from a surviving partner in cases of death. I suppose that gay couples can protect themselves somewhat now, though nothing is set in stone. But marriage would offer them the best possible protection from greedy relatives. I'm surprised gay marriage hasn't been legalized, if only to get more of the gay population's disposable income flowing into the economy. I bet they have the most. I mean, if they can't marry and have kids less because of all the complications, they probably focus more on their careers and have fewer things to spend their money on."

"That's smart…skipping over the moral/religious arguments and getting down to brass tacks."

"Everything comes down to money."

Justin frowned. "Do you really believe that?"

"Don't you?"

"No."

"You should. Seth had a huge chip on his shoulder because you made more money, right?"

Justin nodded.

"So even though he cared about you…" (I couldn't bring myself to use the word love to describe what Justin and Seth had felt for each other)

"He couldn't get over himself and just enjoy what you had."

"True."

"Well, my mom and dad split because of money, too. My dad didn't want the expense of a second kid, so he jetted."

Justin sighed. "I'd like to think money doesn't matter if the love is real."

"That's the problem. The love binding people together, if love at all, is almost never of the true love variety."

"And if it is, what then?"

"Then nothing matters, not even money."

Justin smiled. "That statement contradicts your absolute."

I smirked. "Well the number of instances of true love is so low that percentage-wise it's negligible." (I got that 25-center from Mrs. Thomas, my physics teacher.)

Justin smiled even brighter for a second before donning a fake innocent facial expression and tone. "So is what you feel for me, what I feel for you, insignificant?"

Thrown off guard, I flushed. I whispered, "No. It's everything."

Justin said softly, "So it's everything and nothing. How profound."

"Love is everything and nothing, but only because it encompasses many kinds and degrees." (A sincere thank you to my English teacher Ms. Harper for that gem of a word). "What I feel for you is perfect and pure and forever, in short, nothing like most people even dream of feeling. If marriage meant anything, if it hadn't been sullied by millions of insincere oath breakers, I'd propose right now. What I want us to have, to share, is much more beautiful than that tired old institution. I want it to be as unique as you are, as we are together." In this moment, the boldness and certainty I had felt our first night had returned, and, as stupid as I knew it would sound to anyone else, I didn't care. Being stupid felt incredible, especially when Justin's face flushed, and his eyes darkened with desire. He turned the burner off and then took me into his arms. He swallowed hard, but his voice was still husky when he replied, in a whisper, "Dinner can wait. I want you…God how I want you…"

Humiliating (and crazy wonderful) as it is to admit, I nearly swooned.


	21. Wanting You, Part 2

How did I get from being cherished by the man I loved to being sold, like chattel, by my mom to the aforementioned man? I could barely make the conceptual leap, and I had been there. Everything had been so perfect. I'd made myself vulnerable to Justin, and, instead of hurting me or mocking me, Justin had looked at me like I was the entire world and whispered, his voice impossibly husky, "I want you…God how I want you…"

Justin and I had been kissing. He was holding me tight, his fingers in my hair and his tongue in my mouth. He kissed me so deeply that I felt a little faint and my body felt like it was on fire. My hands were on his perfect ass, so round and firm, and I was rubbing my painfully erect cock against his. I'd never been hornier in my life. Then someone was knocking, no pounding, on the door. At first, we ignored it, but the person on the other side of the door was insistent. So Justin broke away, breathless and panting, and whispered, his voice husky, and his eyes dark and heavy lidded with desire, "Stay here. I'll get rid of whoever it is." I couldn't even speak, so I just nodded.

I waited and waited. Finally I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to know who Justin was speaking to. So I went into the living room area. Justin wasn't there. But the door was ajar, and I could hear hushed voices in the hall. I would have gone back to the bedroom area, but, for a second, I thought I heard my mother's voice. A second later, as I peeked through the space between the wall and the door, I was horrified to discover that that had indeed been my mother's voice.

She was saying, "I know you, uh, 'enjoy' my son, in every sense of the word, and why wouldn't you? He's young and nice looking. And I know he's here a lot. But wouldn't you like to have him around all the time, so you can get off whenever you want? Hell, you can pull him out of school. It's not like he's going to college. All I'm asking for is 5 grand. I know you have it. That motorcycle…your watch…this fancy place. 5 grand is chump change to you, right?"

Justin, God he looked beautiful, wearing only a pair of jeans, his hair a little mussed, his arms resting on his legs (he was leaning against the wall), and his eyes, fuck his eyes. They displayed a curious mixture of emotions: anger, pain, horror, and sadness. But there was something else there, too. Hope, maybe?

Justin shook his head (was I imagining things, or did it seem that he did so sadly) and stated evenly, though there was an edge to his voice, "Brian isn't an object, something that can be bought and sold." Then he turned to re-enter the loft. When he saw me, he froze. Then I saw everything. Everything.

Suddenly, I knew Justin would have agreed…without even blinking…that he wanted to say yes. The idea of my moving into the loft with him, of my escaping that hell hole I call home, and of us being free of my mom and all the twisted bullshit that came with her, and all for the tiny sum of 5 grand…he would have agreed immediately. Happily. Except that he knew it would hurt me. He knew that even discussing it would kill me. And he feared that agreeing might kill us. Looking into his eyes, I could see every thought, every fear.

If I loved Justin before (and I did), I loved him so much more in that moment. So fucking much that I thought my chest would never stop aching. He really got it, got me. He knew I would resent anyone who tried to save me, and even though he was desperate to do just that, he put me first. I don't think anyone has ever done that before. Not even when my mom refused to have an abortion. As she explained it, she'd done that to save her immortal soul, not me. Course, her immortal soul wasn't worth shit now…not after the prostitution…the drinking…the drugs.

Justin smiled and tried to usher me back into the loft, but his smile was as dim as a streetlamp a mile way. He said softly, "Let's go back in." But I think he knew that I couldn't just let her leave, so at the merest touch from me, he just stepped aside. Then he returned to his leaning position, trying to act like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. But I knew he was standing guard. It's not like my mother could hurt me physically. But she was constantly wounding me in other ways.


	22. Wanting You, Part 3

I'd barely been able to hold my anger in check this long. So the second Justin stepped aside, I yelled, "Mom, what the hell are you doing?"

My mom actually had the good sense to look a little ashamed. For about a second. Then she hissed, "It's about time you started earning your keep!"

I ran my fingers through my hair, so roughly that it hurt a little, and counted to ten in an attempt to rein in my anger, but it didn't do much good. Then I clenched my fist and snapped. "It's time I earned my keep? You have got to be fucking kidding me! Everything I own, you found on the street, in the trash, everything except my laptop, and I bought that second hand. I had to. Even if I'd had the money for something better, I knew you'd just end up selling it for booze or crack. Just like all the Christmas and birthday presents Manny used to buy me until I told him that you'd never let me keep any of them. And I've bought all my clothes ever since I was old enough to babysit and do odd jobs. If I'm at all a drain, you have only yourself to blame. If it weren't for you, I could have held down a regular job! But no boss wants an employee's drugged out whore of a mother hanging around, trying to pick up tricks!"

My mom crossed her arms and looked away.

Then I lost it completely. I cried out (cried being the operative word; I couldn't keep the pain out of my voice), "Why do you have to ruin everything? Huh, why? Do you want Justin to think I'm garbage? It's bad enough that you're a fucking hooker! Because of you, I could never make friends. No mother would let their kid come over. Not after that first time. You knew I had company, yet you invited a guy over anyway and screwed him while Sam was there. It was fucking humiliating. You moaning in the other room. Sam thought that guy was hurting you. He wanted to call the God-damned cops!"

She wobbled a bit (Go figure; she was always a little drunk), but still managed to snap back, "I didn't ask you to invite that brat over!" In a faux-child's voice, she mocked, "Can I have a juice box? Don't you have Nickelodeon? Why does it smell funny in here?" Then she continued, in a normal tone, a screech really, "Little bastard. No manners at all."

I bellowed, "He was 8!"

She scoffed, "Whatever. He was still an asshole. You're better off."

"What do you even need the money for? Last time I checked, crack was pretty cheap."

"Watch your mouth, you little shit! It's none of your business what I need it for."

After a pause, she looked at me again, her eyes narrowing. "You're 17. You don't need a mommy. And you shouldn't be giving it away for free. Especially to him. I see the way he looks at you. He'd pay. A lot. Haven't I taught you anything?"

I growled, "I'm not even going to answer that. So you think I don't need a mother? Fine. But what about you? If I'm not there, who's going to make sure you eat? Who's going to drag you to the clinic to get tested and when you get sick? Who's going to take out the trash and call the exterminator every few months, so you don't get rats and roaches like half the people in that building? Who's going to clean up, so you have somewhere to bring tricks?"

My mom swallowed hard, as though she was actually a little touched, but then her eyes grew cold, and her face, impassive. She stated clearly, much more clearly than she had said anything in a long time, "I don't need you, Brian. I never did."

I drew in a shuddery breath and nodded slowly. After a very painful moment (I was trying desperately not to cry; I must have gotten something in my eye), I said coldly, "Fine. Fine. You don't need me? I'm just a burden? Fine. I'll get my shit and go."

In a softer voice (as if she were embarrassed, not fucking likely), she prodded, "And the money…"

I exploded, "Oh my fucking God! Fine. I'll get you the money, but you and I both know that I'm not worth 5 grand. Maybe a fifth of that. Maybe."

My mom sighed. "Fine. But I need it by tomorrow."

I shrugged.

She turned to leave, but something suddenly occurred to me. I grabbed her arm and asked, my voice a low growl, "Mom, how did you know I was here? I never told you where Justin lived."

She brushed my hand off and shrugged. "I followed you. So what?"

But she didn't turn. It was like she was purposely avoiding my eyes. I grabbed her and forced her to turn around. "You followed me? Most days, you don't even get up until it's almost dark."

She still wouldn't look at me.

I just gaped at her for a moment. Then, my voice half-growl, half-cry, I asked, "Mom, what did you do?"

She still wouldn't look at me; she didn't even answer. She just stood there looking at the floor.

I shook her and screamed, "Mom, what did you do?"

She pushed me away and shook her head. "Nothing. I don't know."

Then after a long pause, she finally confessed, "Maybe I told Johnny that you were dating some rich guy…maybe he had you followed…"

"Maybe?"

"Ok I did, so what?"

"You told your fucking pimp about Justin? Are you fucking crazy?"

"I'm not bringing in what I used to…He was gonna cut me loose…"

In a whisper, I inquired, "So you sold me out?"

Then I took a few steps back.

She moved closer to me, but I pushed her away and shouted, "Get the fuck away from me! I can't even look at you."


	23. Wanting You, Part 4

I couldn't even remember getting from the hall to the bathroom, but I ended up there somehow. Puking my guts out (well, what little was in my stomach; I hadn't eaten since lunch). While my mom and I were arguing, I couldn't even look at Justin. I was so embarrassed. I'd just made an embarrassing situation worse, going off on her the way I did, mentioning things I never wanted Justin to know… but I just couldn't help it. I was so angry. So hurt. I didn't know how I'd ever be able to look Justin in the eye again. It was bad enough that I was a kid. That my mom was a fucking prostitute. That I lived, or had lived, in the shittiest part of town. But my mom had come here trying to fucking sell me. I wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand and moved from a squatting position to a sitting one. I couldn't prevent the tears that had been welling up in my chest since I'd first seen my mom in the hall from falling. Not anymore. _My mom had tried to fucking sell me._ Like she was a crackhead going from apartment to apartment trying to sell a lamp or a table for drug money. Who the fuck was I kidding? She was a crackhead. And to her I was little more than furniture. Property.

Suddenly the bathroom door opened. _Fuck_. I quickly brushed away my tears. Justin hesitated, but then walked in, a glass of water in his hand. He didn't say anything. He just sat down next to me and handed me the glass. I took it and then looked away. Any sane person would kick me out. I knew that. Justin had feelings for me, sure, which might prevent him from asking me to leave, but caring about me might cause him to feel something much worse than disdain: pity. How could he not lose all respect for me? I didn't know what to say, but I wanted him to start talking, to pull the band-aid off. I needed to know if his feelings for me had changed, if he now regretted taking me home last week. Or if he was going to try to make a project out of me.

As if he could read my mind, Justin began to speak. "Brian…I don't know what to say…except what I said before your mother knocked." More softly, he said, "I want you."

I couldn't look at him. My voice barely rose above a whisper as I asked, "Still?"

"Of course! Nothing that she said or that you said changes anything. You're still the same person…the person who's left me speechless…and breathless since I first laid eyes on him. On you."

I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from starting to cry again and looked at Justin then. My chest ached so much that I could barely breathe. But somehow I managed to ask, "Really?"

Justin smiled softly and nodded. Then he said, hesitantly, nervously, "I'd really love it if you moved in with me. I know the circumstances suck, and I guess it's kind of soon, but I love you, I want you, and I'd really like it if you let me need you."

I swallowed hard. I repeated slowly, "Let you need me?"

Justin nodded. "I just thought, it would be nice if you were here to remind me to eat…"

"You cook all the time."

"Only when you're here."

"Really?"

Justin nodded. "And maybe you could let yourself need me, too."

I furrowed my brow and sighed. "It's not the same."

"Why?"

"I don't have a job, and even if I did, I wouldn't make anything near what you do."

"I guess this is our chance to test your theory."

"My theory?"

"That if love is true love, nothing matters, not even money. We should just take care of each other, each in the capacity that he can, and not worry about who pays for what."

I looked at Justin for a long moment, not saying anything, but then I smiled a little (I couldn't help it; I was suddenly so happy). Justin had just (indirectly) said that he loved me, that what we shared was true love. I couldn't really argue after that. Instead, I said, "Okay. I'll take care of you if you'll take care of me."

In a husky whisper, Justin replied, "Gladly." Then he pulled me onto his lap. He threaded his fingers through my hair and drew me to him. I resisted at first. "No, wait, I just…" But Justin interjected, "I don't care." Then he sent his lips crashing down onto mine. He kissed me so deeply that I felt like I'd gotten the wind knocked out of me. Then he picked me up (keep in mind, I hadn't had my growth spurt yet—I've been told Kinney men shoot up at 18—but I was still just a half an inch, or thereabouts, shorter than him), still kissing me, and actually carried me into the bedroom area. I've never thought of myself as the kind of guy who would ever be carried, who would ever want to be carried, but I had to admit, when it was Justin's strong arms around me (and, fuck, they were really strong), I kind of liked it.

Justin laid me on the bed and, still kissing me, quickly stripped me of my clothes (my shirt was a button down). Then he kneeled between my legs (on the bed) and just looked at me. He was flushed and panting, and he just stared at me, his eyes roaming my naked form, in silence, for a very, very long moment. I didn't understand why (I wasn't cold), but I shivered. The shivering only intensified when Justin breathed, "You're so beautiful."

Then he was on top of me, laying open-mouth kisses on my neck and down my chest. Then my uncomfortably erect cock was in his mouth. No prelude, he just wolfed me down, sliding his incredible lips (plump and soft, yet firm) down my shaft until the tip of my cock hit the back of his throat. I threaded my fingers into his longish blond hair and moaned, "Oh fuck!" In just a few short minutes, I was shooting buckets down his throat, I'm ashamed to say, well almost. Whenever Justin gave me head, it was mind blowing, literally, with attendent euphoria and near-hallucinatory sensations: The air always seemed to have texture and depth and seemed to participate in my orgasms.

While I was still recovering, Justin stood and removed his jeans. Then in a flash, or what seemed like one, he was kneeling between my legs again, condom on and slicked with lube. In another flash, my legs were on his shoulders, and he was pushing his throbbing cock inside me (I actually felt it throbbing, but that might have been a side effect of the aforementioned orgasm; I was still a little trembly). That's how I experienced the the rest of our love making. In flashes, like photographs. Justin all the way inside me, his back arched, a look of pure bliss on his face. Justin kissing me roughly. Justin burying his face in my neck. Justin sucking on my neck hard, as though he wanted to mark me as his. My hands on Justin's ass. My hands sliding up his sweat-slick back. A nose nudge. Another passionate kiss. Justin lying on his back, me on top off him (my hands behind me on his legs for leverage) riding his dick (I couldn't say later exactly how that happened). Justin's strong hands on my hips, pulling me down his shaft as he thrust upward. Justin's hand on my, once again, hard cock. I came shortly after that, but my orgasm kind of shorted out my brain for a few seconds—hence no picture, just darkness, beautiful darkness and every cell in my body orgasming (or so it seemed). Justin's back arched, his head thrown back, his eyes shut tight, as he moaned, loudly, "Fuck, Brian!" Justin's hand on the back of my neck, kissing me even more passionately than he had yet (and that's saying A LOT—his kisses had been so deep all evening). Justin, still inside me, holding me so, so tight, our bodies stuck together with sweat and cum. Then I was lying next to Justin, my head on his chest, his arms tight around me. Whispered I love yous. Then sleep. Maybe the best sleep I'd had in all of my 17 years. For the first time in my life, I knew that I was safe and loved. So loved.


	24. Waking Up Has Never Been Sweeter

I woke up, Brian in my arms, and smiled. I traced a finger lightly over Brian's warm bronze skin (his neck) and then ran my hand through his messy chestnut hair. Fuck, he was beautiful. Even with bed head and drool at the corner of his mouth. Brian "mmm-ed" in response to my gentle touches and nuzzled my chest (on which he'd been lying). I was so happy I could barely contain myself. From now on, I would get to do this every morning. In the two weeks Brian and I had been together, we had only slept in the same bed twice, and, on the second occasion, I had been sleeping one off, so I'd hardly been in a position to enjoy it. Brian probably could have stayed over all those other nights we'd seen one another, but he'd felt duty bound to go home, just in case something happened to his mom. I gently rolled Brian onto his back and started laying open-mouthed kisses down his chest and abdomen. This would be the first time I could wake Brian with a blow job (both times we'd slept in the same bed, Brian had awakened first), and I found the prospect exciting. Brian still had so many firsts left (since he hadn't been with anyone other than me). Every time I reminded myself of that, I trembled a little. I kind of wished that I had had all my firsts with Brian, but perhaps my age and my experience were part of what first attracted Brian to me. He did seem a little troubled by my 'worldliness,' but considering the way he had looked at me that first night…me half-naked with some trick sucking my cock…I wondered: Did he want me in spite of my sluttiness or, in part, because of it? I didn't know. All that really mattered was that he wanted me.

I smiled when I pulled the duvet off of Brian's lower half. I bit back a smile. Brian's cock was huge. I had really lucked out there (and in general). Brian was gorgeous. Perfect. Had he been less so, I would still have wanted him, and as much. What had really drawn me to Brian were his intense hazel eyes, his sexy voice, his impudence/confidence, and, I'm a little embarrassed to say, the awe with which he gazed at me. But, of course, there were advantages to Brian's having a huge cock. One, and the one on my mind now, was increased pleasure sucking Brian off. As bad as it might sound, I liked having a mouth full (literally) of cock. And that he could easily provide.

I teased Brian a little first, drawing my tongue across the tip of his cock and then along the underside of his shaft, from base to tip. I was watching Brian's face, intently, the whole time (watching was half the fun of sucking Brian's cock—there was no greater ego boost for me than his facial expressions and the sounds he made). Brian opened his mouth a little, as though in surprise, and then swallowed hard. Next I licked around the head of his cock and then finally took it (the head) into my mouth and sucked on it, hard. Brian moaned and arched his back, trying to push his cock deeper into my mouth. I laughed…the impatience of youth…but then I took Brian's entire cock into my mouth. When the tip of his cock entered my throat, I swallowed hard, eliciting a whimper from Brian, and then started bobbing my head quickly, taking Brian's full length into my mouth every time, and swallowing every time the tip of his cock entered my throat. Brian started panting and then, in a strangled moan, called out my name. I fucking loved the way he said, moaned, and whispered my name. In that moment, I knew that I really was in love with Brian. When I'd first said the words, I'd felt a little self-conscious and silly, I mean, we barely knew each other…then and now… though saying them had also felt so right. But now, hearing him moan my name, I felt…happy and sad, my heart swelling and my chest aching, at the same time. Keenly aware, for hundredth time (maybe there hadn't been that many…but still, there'd been a lot), that I never wanted Brian to leave. That that would seriously wreck me. Brian pulled me out of my head by thrusting his cock deeper into my mouth. I smiled around it, but then let him fuck my mouth, just swirling my tongue along Brian's cock as he slid it in and out. Soon Brian tensed up and whispered huskily, "Fuck…oh fuck…Justin," and came. I swallowed his cum eagerly and then licked every inch of his cock for good measure.

Brian had woken up just as his orgasm hit, his eyes widening. Now he was sitting up, leaning back on his arms, watching me. I crawled up Brian's body and then kissed his lips tenderly before pulling him into my arms and rolling onto my back. I whispered into his ear, "Morning, beautiful."

I could feel Brian smiling against my skin. I was surprised when he replied, a little shyly, "Morning." Was he embarrassed? Then he whispered huskily, "I love you, Justin. So fucking much." Nope. He must just be a little overwhelmed, like I had been earlier. I was discovering that love was like that. As scary as it was wonderful. I say "was discovering" because I was beginning to think I'd never been in love before. In lust? Yes. In like? Definitely. In love? Almost certainly not. I mean, what I had felt for others wasn't even comparable to what I felt for Brian. I'd never been this happy or this terrified.

In a husky whisper, I replied, "I love you, too, Brian."

TBC…soon (I'm just getting started, but this seemed like a good place to pause)


	25. Byron Kimmey and Jason Tyler

A/N: I really hope this part doesn't suck…

I emerged from the shower squeaky clean and quite alone, since Justin had said that he needed to make breakfast (and that if we didn't separate, neither of us would ever leave the loft). However, I couldn't help but saunter into the kitchen naked (and hard; I'd been thinking about what I had seen the moment I opened my eyes, Justin sucking my cock, greedily swallowing my cum. Fuck, he was beautiful, and he had perfect lips and a talented tongue). Justin's breath caught in his throat when he saw me, and he flushed, which caused me to smile complacently, but when he merely kissed me on the cheek and said, "I hope you're hungry," I couldn't help but be a little disappointed.

I looked at the table then. While I was in the shower, Justin had made chocolate chip pancakes, over easy eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee and was in the process of making home fries. He'd grilled onions in tons of butter and was now adding chopped potatoes, garlic, and pepper. The kitchen smelled incredible. I headed back into the bedroom, but Justin stopped me. "Where you going?"

"I thought I'd throw some clothes on."

Justin flushed again and pulled me against him. Then he kissed my lips tenderly and purred, "But I like you like this." All my disappointment vanished then. He did want me as much as I wanted him. He just wanted to take care of me. For a second, I couldn't breathe.

When I recovered, I smiled softly and moved to sit down. Then I took a pancake, a piece of bacon, an egg, and a piece of toast and poured myself a cup of coffee. I wasn't a big eater, but I was determined to sample everything he'd made for me. Justin turned back to the home fries. Then he asked, "So do you have anything special going on at school today?"

When I didn't answer right away, he turned to look at me. I just quirked an eyebrow. He prodded, "Any tests….quizzes…your debate?"

"No tests or quizzes, and my debate isn't until next Friday."

"Oh cool. What time?"

I just blinked.

"Brian?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Justin laughed. "Uh…so I can come."

My eyes widened. Incredulously, I asked, "You want to come?" The only person who'd gone to any of my school functions was Manny, but only when he could take off work, which wasn't too often.

Justin smiled. "Of course."

I protested, "But all that shit is lame."

"Brian…when I was in high school, I did all kinds of things that seem kind of lame now, but they were important to me then. You know, milestones. I don't want you to miss anything because you're dating an older guy. I want to share in your life. That means going to your debates, helping you study for the SATs and unit tests, taking you to your prom…"

I actually gasped. "You want to take me to my prom?"

Justin smiled. "If you want me to…I'd be honored."

I shook my head. "You're fucking crazy."

Justin shrugged. "Maybe, but you love me anyway."

In a husky whisper, I replied, "I really do." Then I asked, "So…who did you go to your prom with?"

"Daphne."

I gaped. "You dated Daphne?"

Justin laughed. "No…though I was her first."

My eyes nearly popped out of my head. "What?"

"She was eager to lose her virginity, but she wanted her first time to be with someone she loved. So she asked me."

"Weird."

"Yeah, it was a little. But back then, I was horny all the time. So getting it up wasn't too difficult."

I shuddered. "Why didn't you take a guy?"

"I didn't have a boyfriend. I didn't have too much experience back then. I mean, I'd jerked a football player off, but after that, he was so ashamed that he got mean. He started picking fights, pulling pranks, and insulting me." Justin laughed. "So he wasn't exactly an option. I didn't even lose my virginity until after prom, but even if it had happened before, I couldn't have taken the guy who popped my cherry."

"Why not?"

Justin swallowed hard. That was a bad, bad sign. I was praying to a God I didn't believe in that he hadn't been in love with this guy. As Justin flipped the home fries, he explained, "His name was Byron Kimmey."

"Byron Kimmey?"

Justin wrinkled his nose cutely then. "I know, weird name, right? Anyway, back when I was 18, he was the stud of Liberty Avenue. Everyone wanted him to fuck them or to suck his dick. Of course, I didn't know that when he picked me up. That was my first foray down to Liberty Avenue. He took me back to his loft, one not too different from this one, in structure anyway. He fucked me all night long."

I resisted the urge to ask what he looked like. He must have been hot, or he wouldn't have been universally wanted. The last thing I wanted was for Justin to tell me how gorgeous he was. I just hoped he wasn't hotter than me. But again, I resisted the urge to ask.

Justin sighed. "But then when dawn came, he told me to get the fuck out."

"What an idiot!" And I meant it. I would have given anything to be the one to take Justin's virginity. He was so beautiful, passionate, intelligent, and caring, as well as an amazing artist. Anyone who had Justin from jump and just tossed him away was a fool who deserved what he got.

Justin smiled weakly. "Yeah. His best friend Mickey, who'd been with Byron when I met him, had warned me before I left with him that he didn't do boyfriends. That he fucked people once (or however many times on a single occasion) and then forgot they existed. But I went anyway. He was hot and, as it turned out, an incredible fuck."

In a voice that I tried desperately to keep even (but that trembled despite my efforts), I asked, "Were you disappointed?"

Justin shook his head. "If I had seen anything that night that indicated he was more than just a good fuck, I might have been, but I really didn't. We didn't talk much. All he wanted was my ass. Well, and my mouth wrapped around his cock. I was grateful for the experience…he showed me how to do just about everything, but walking away wasn't hard."

I quirked an eyebrow. I couldn't help but wonder: Was he just saying that because Byron had rejected him? It was human nature to protect oneself…to pretend not to want what one couldn't have. As though Justin could read my mind, he smiled then and answered my unspoken question. "Trust me, if I had had feelings for him, nothing would have stopped me from pursuing him. I would have been down on Liberty every night, in my tightest, shiniest clothes, trying to get his attention. Fuck, I would have even stalked him."

I chuckled. That I could believe. Justin was nothing if not brave.

"But I just…I didn't feel any special connection between us. I won't deny that I felt completely rejected. To be discarded so coldly after losing your virginity…it couldn't but hurt a little."

Suddenly I felt like punching this guy. "Did you ever see him after that?"

"Of course. Like I said, he was the stud of Liberty Avenue back then. So for the next decade, he continued plowing through ass, tricking, drinking, and doing drugs like there was no tomorrow. If he remembered me after the night we spent together, he gave no sign. In fact, one night a few years later, he invited me to go to the backroom with him. So maybe he had forgotten."

My eyes widened. "Did you go?"

Justin grinned. "Are you kidding? It felt too good to tell him no." Then he laughed. "You should have seen the look on his face. At the time, he was still riding high. No one, and I mean no one, turned Byron Kimmey down."

"Where is he now?"

"Oh…he still comes to Babylon on the weekends. But he's with Mickey now. He still tricks sometimes, but he's in his forties, so he doesn't have the pick of the club anymore."

"I thought he and Mickey were just friends."

Justin nodded. "But the night I went home with Byron, I got the impression that Mickey was in love with him. That he hoped Byron would one day see him as more than a friend. And, according to Emmett, who always has the best gossip, Byron fucked Mickey for the first time on his 40th birthday. After that, they moved in together, though, like I said, he still tricks when he can."

"That's kind of sad."

Justin nodded. "It really is."

We were silent for a couple minutes. I would have given anything to know what he was thinking. Me…I was, as Shirley sometimes said, "thanking my lucky stars." I'd seen "the one" and recognized him. If I hadn't…if the timing had been wrong…or I'd been wrong…and gone home with Jason Tyler…things could have turned out so differently. In a husky voice, I said, "I'm sorry." I think that was the first time I'd said I was sorry for anything. Fuck, it was the first time I'd even considered saying I was sorry.

Justin froze. "For what?"

"For making you wait 11 years."

Justin flushed. But then he smiled. "You were…are worth the wait. So worth it."

In that moment, I was reminded that you have to risk to gain. The night we met, Justin might have shot me down or fucked me and brushed me off. But instead, something unbelievably wonderful had happened. And now…he wanted to really be in my life…share a life with me, and I wanted that too. So much. I was just scared. Scared that the more I seemed like a kid, the less he would want me, like me…that maybe he'd stop loving me or realize he never had. But if we made a life together, and he still felt the same way…

I swallowed hard. Then as evenly as I could manage, I said, "4:30."

Justin smiled a confused smile. "4:30?"

"My debate. It's at 4:30 next Friday in the gym."

Justin smiled a million-watt smile then. He kissed me on the cheek and shoveled some home fries onto my plate. "I can't wait to see you in action. You're going to be amazing!"

I also smiled, but a soft smile. I was terrified, but excited, too. Fuck. I was going to have to really work on my argument. I didn't want to disappoint Justin. I wanted him to be proud of me.

TBC…(I may do another part later tonight…)


	26. Fighting at School

Once we'd finished eating breakfast and enjoyed a quick fuck, Justin lying on the chaise and me riding him, Justin took me to school (afterward, I smelled like sex, like Justin. I spent the ride to school smiling. I fucking loved the idea of having his smell, our smell, on me all day). Without my asking, Justin found an out-of-the-way place to drop me off. I was so relieved. The whole situation was seriously fucked up. Justin gave me ten bucks for lunch (as embarrassed as I was, I took it; I needed to prove to Justin and myself that I was more of a man than Seth Branigan), and then he kissed me. It was a long lingering kiss that left us both flushed and breathless. I had to admit, as surreal as everything was, this was the best weekday morning I'd ever had in all my seventeen years. No eating cereal without milk for breakfast (my mom often left the milk on the counter overnight, causing it to spoil), no frantically searching underneath couch cushions and in drawers for enough change for lunch, no riding the bus to school. Unfortunately, as I learned later when he was using me as a punching bag while two of his friends held my arms, one of the football players had seen Justin and I kissing. So that kind of sucked. But I did manage to land a few blows myself (before they pinned me). I broke the lead asshole's nose and gave one of his cronies a black eye. The office called my mother, but she didn't pick up (she was probably still sleeping), so I told the secretary to call Justin. She was confused (I didn't bother trying to explain), but she was desperate to get some adult here to speak to the vice-principal (and to take me home), so she did it.

I was sitting in one of the three chairs outside the vice-principal's office when Justin arrived. I stood up. The second he saw me, he started freaking out. He pushed back my hair (it had fallen onto my forehead) to get a better look at the huge bruise extending an inch or so beyond my eye (all the way around) and gently touched my cheek, also sporting a whopper of a bruise.

He cried out, "Oh God, Brian. What happened? Who did this to you?"

I shrugged. "Three jerkoff football players."

Justin paled. Then, as if he needed to, he asked, his voice dropping near to a whisper, "Why?"

I didn't want him to feel guilty, so I didn't answer the question. Instead I smirked and said, "You're hot when you're all worried."

Justin sighed, but he was smiling, too, albeit weakly. Thankfully, I was saved further questioning when the vice-principal, Mrs. Price, opened her office door. "Are you Mr. Taylor?"

Justin nodded. "I'm Mrs. Price. The vice-principal of this school. Please come in. Brian, you, too."

We followed her in and sat down.

"Brian got into a fight in the lunchroom. According to witnesses, he was the one who started it. It's our policy to suspend instigators of violence for two weeks."

Justin narrowed his eyes. "Wait a minute. It was my understanding that three football players were involved."

"Yes. That's true."

"So you expect me to believe that Brian just decided to attack three football players? That they did nothing to precipitate the fight?"

"Well, like I said, according to students who witnessed the altercation, it was Brian…"

"Slow down. Who were these witnesses? Were they other football players?"

"Well, yes."

"And it never occurred to you that they might be lying to get their teammates out of trouble?"

"Whether they were teammates or not, none of the students in question has ever been in trouble. I have no reason to doubt the veracity of their claims."

"Has Brian ever been in trouble?"

"Well, no."

"Then why do you doubt what Brian says about the fight?"

"Well…he was involved."

"But before now, he's never been in trouble. Isn't it more plausible that the three football players were bullying him and that he defended himself? I mean, why would an otherwise good student suddenly attack three kids and lie about it?"

"The other three students have never been in trouble before, either."

"Well, if they have 'witnesses' on hand to lie for them, I don't doubt it. Is it school policy to protect bullies if they play sports? Are you blaming Brian because you need the other three students to be eligible to play and a suspension would nullify that eligibility?"

Mrs. Price turned bright red. "Of course not!"

"Because I have to say, that's discriminatory. Brian belongs to the debate club, and he has a debate scheduled next Friday. It's completely unfair to punish him for defending himself and rendering him ineligible to participate in his extracurricular activity so that three bullies are eligible to participate in theirs. You know, I might need to speak out against your school's discriminatory practices. My sense of civic responsibility would preclude my doing anything else. In fact, I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't. A great deal of my work addresses discrimination and injustice in our social institutions."

"Your work?"

"Yes. I'm an artist."

Mrs. Price paled. Then she stammered, "Wait…Justin Taylor. You're _the_ Justin Taylor?"

Justin nodded.

In a whisper, more to herself than to Justin, she muttered, "I went to one of your shows while I was in New York City last spring." Finally getting ahold of herself, she stated, "Your work is simply amazing."

Justin rolled his eyes. "Thanks."

Mrs. Price narrowed her eyes then. "Brian asked the secretary to call you when his mother couldn't be reached, but he didn't say why. What is your interest in him?"

I actually held my breath. This was the question I had been dreading. But apparently Justin had given it some thought before coming in because, not even pausing, he replied evenly, "Brian has worked part time as my assistant for some time now. So when his mother hit some rocky financial waters, I offered my help. I have a spare room, so I invited Brian to stay with me until graduation. His mother was grateful for the assistance."

Mrs. Price nodded slowly. Then she looked down at her desk as though pondering something. After a couple minutes of silence, she looked up and said, "I will admit that it seems unlikely that Brian would suddenly attack three boys who are bigger than him without cause and that the claims of the witnesses might not be truthful given their connection to the other three students; however, I cannot allow the guilty party to go unpunished. Since we have no irrefutable proof regarding who initiated the fight, I will punish all the students involved."

After a dark look from Justin, she added, "But I will reduce the length of the suspension to three days."

Justin sighed, but he said, "Fair enough."

As Justin and I rose to leave, Mrs. Price smiled and said, in a sickly sweet voice, "On an entirely different subject, I think it's wonderful that one of our students has such a talented artist as his patron. I would be remiss in my duty if I neglected to ask whether you could speak on career day and whether you would consider working with our alumni association on one of our charity events. Your participation in both would be quite valuable, I'm sure, and would most definitely increase the quality of Brian's education as well as that of all other students here."

Justin tilted his head and smiled. "Providing that you put me down as Brian's emergency contact, I would gladly help in any way that I can."

Mrs. Price smiled brightly. "But of course."

Justin added, "Please send me whatever information I need about career day, that is, the day, possible times, and your expectations regarding speakers' presentations and put the president of the alumni association in contact with me."

"Consider it done." Mrs. Price held out her hand. After a slight hesitation, Justin shook it. Then we were out the door. As we were walking down the steps, Justin shook his head and laughed. "I can't fucking believe it. A little old lady shook me down! I wonder…did she really not know who I was until halfway through the meeting, or was it all an act? Was laying all the blame on you part of a plan? I mean, she'd have to be a fucking idiot or corrupt as fucking hell to even consider punishing only you. I wouldn't be surprised if that was just her way of getting me to use my social capital to put pressure on her. Oh and asking about the nature of our relationship only after I told her who I was…that was just another machination. Come on. That should have been the first thing out of her mouth. No, she didn't ask right away because she'd already guessed and wanted to use it to her best advantage. Getting me not only to speak at career day but to do charity work. I should have seen it coming a mile away. My God, she could give the ladies at my mother's country club a run for their money."

When we reached Justin's bike, he finally looked at me. The whole time, he'd been muttering to himself I'd been sinking deeper into self-loathing. Did everyone in my life want to use me to get something from Justin? First my mom (and her pimp) and now my vice-principal. I wouldn't have blamed Justin if he dumped me right then. Justin must have taken one look at me and read everything I was thinking and feeling from the expression on my face because he immediately pulled me into his arms. "All I care about is that we're living together…that you won't be ineligible to participate in your debate…and that the school accepts me as your guardian for school matters. Waking up with you this morning made me so happy…and if my success can make life easier for you, for us, all the better." I couldn't help but smile a little. Justin was so fucking giving and sweet. Then he pulled back and looked at me, his gaze intense. "You're not sorry we met are you?"

I swallowed hard. "Are you kidding? You're one of the few good things in my shitty life. I just wish people would stop using me to get to you."

"Don't think about it like that. I want you living with me. And I really don't mind speaking at career day or helping to raise money for your school. In fact, I'm glad to do both. I mean…we might be able to sneak off somewhere on career day. If I thought fucking you in your bedroom was hot…fucking you in the boy's bathroom at school will be even hotter…and if I'm proactive, maybe some of the money I help them raise will actually benefit you. So far, none of it has been anything I'm loathe to do."

I desperately hoped that that was always the case. That there never came a day when someone used me to hurt Justin…to get him to do something he would never do otherwise. Seeing Justin so worried, I shook my head to clear it of nagging fears and smiled a little, which put Justin at ease. He asked brightly, "Well, since you have a half day followed by five days off (counting the weekend), would you like to do some posing for me?"

At the thought, my eyes darkened, and my breathing grew shallow. The way Justin looked at me (and touched me) when he was painting me was like nothing else I'd ever experienced. Fuck, and the sex during breaks had been phenomenal. I fucking loved being his muse, knowing that I was the only person who'd ever inspired him with "my beauty." He made me feel so special. No one had ever done that before, not even Manny (I knew he loved me, but I was always conscious of the fact that I wasn't his real son. Ben was).

So in a husky whisper, I replied, "Hell fucking yes."


	27. Enter Ethan

Brian and I skipped the elevator, choosing to run up the stairs instead (because it was faster, and we were both eager to fuck). When we got to the door, I pushed Brian up against it, nudged his nose, brushed my lips gently against his, and then looked into his eyes. He was panting, and his eyes were wide, yet intense. I couldn't hold back a breathy "God, you're beautiful." He drew his breath in sharply, and my cock grew even harder. Then I crushed my lips against his and thrust my tongue into his mouth. He threaded his fingers through my hair and pulled me closer, deepening the kiss. I frantically searched my jacket pockets for my keys, and when I'd found them, I, somewhat inelegantly, unlocked the door, slid it open, and punched in the security code, still kissing Brian. Then I pushed him inside, grabbing his waist to steady him (and us) as we walked (nearly stumbling) toward the chaise. I'd finally gotten Brian on his back (on the chaise), me on top of him, when someone said, "Damn, Justin! Still as horny as ever I see."

I popped my head up (Brian also lifted and turned his toward the voice) to discover an old friend, Ethan, sitting on a stool by the counter. "Ethan! Holy shit! When did you get back into town?"

Looking down at Brian's stony face, I thought it prudent to add, "I didn't realize you still had a key."

As I sat up, pulling Brian up with me, Ethan replied, "I don't; I called Daphne and told her I wanted to surprise you." I was beyond shocked. Daphne had never been a huge Ethan fan. I stood (Ethan had stood, too) and pulled him into my arms for a hug, but then, when he sat down, I sat next to Brian on the chaise and pulled him into my lap. "Ethan, this is my boyfriend, Brian."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "A boyfriend…that's new!"

"I've had boyfriends before."

"Yeah, but very few and none in the last few years. I thought you'd decided that serious relationships were bullshit."

I admitted softly, "I did." I held Brian tighter. In a brighter voice, I added, "But then I met Brian. Back to the introductions, Brian, this Ethan, an old friend from college. We were roommates."

Ethan laughed. "Yup. And this was a common sight…Justin pushing some trick through the door, attached at the lips and groin, barely making it to the bed, often knocking furniture over."

I just blinked. Then I corrected him, "Except that Brian isn't a trick."

He shrugged. "I guess only time will tell what he is."

"Ethan!"

"What? You've yet to ever even hit the six-month mark."

I kissed Brian's neck. "You just watch."

Brian's entire body had tensed when Ethan had started talking about my romantic/sexual history, but he had said nothing since before we tumbled through the door. He hadn't even said hello to Ethan (not that I blamed him). Finally he spoke. He was smirking, though his eyes were cold, as he drawled, "Let me guess, you've only ever been Justin's friend, but you always hoped that one day Justin would see you as more, that you'd be the one to break through his defenses and get him to settle down."

Ethan shook his head, but he paled and shifted uncomfortably. "No. Of course not." That'd be a direct hit. I fucking loved Brian (not that I was coming to this realization for the first time now, but his ability to see through people and his unwillingness to pretend reminded me just how crazy I was about him). Brian and Ethan were now staring each other down. To break the tension, and the silence, I asked, "So how long will you be in town, Ethan? And where are you staying?"

"Two weeks, I think. Actually, I was hoping I could stay with you."

I wrinkled my nose. "Oh…I don't know. Brian just moved in."

Brian smiled brightly (that had me worried; he never smiled that brightly). "I'm not opposed to his staying here for a couple of weeks. He is your friend after all."

What was he up to? I didn't know, but if he was okay with Ethan's being here…

I shrugged. "Alright. Sure. I still have that fold up bed...somewhere in my storage space. I could put it in the living room area."

Ethan smiled. "Cool. I have to go now. I have a meeting with my agent, but I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"Oh okay."

Ethan stood and extended his hand. "Brian, it was nice meeting you."

Brian's frighteningly bright smile returned as he took Ethan's hand and shook it firmly. So firmly that Ethan winced. After rescuing his hand, Ethan abruptly took his leave (Brian must have seemed even more menacing with his black eye and bruised cheek). Once he had slid the door shut, I pushed Brian onto his back again and started laying open-mouthed kisses down his neck.

In between kisses, I laughed and asked, "What was that all about?"

Brian smirked. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Why would you want him staying with us?" Reaching Brian's chest, I started unbuttoning his shirt and continuing the kissing downward.

"He's your friend. Shouldn't I, as your boyfriend, get to know him? Try to get along with him?"

I looked up at him, an amused expression on my face. "You want to get to know him?"

"Sure. And I want him to get to know me, and us."

I muttered, "Mmm-hmm. I bet" as I reached his waist. Very soon his pants (no underwear today, fuck that reminded me, we needed to get his things from his mom's house) were unfastened, down, and then off. His intentions became crystal clear soon after the door opened again just as I wolfed down Brian's hard, leaking cock. I sucked on it a couple of times and then lifted and turned my head. Ethan had a horrified look on his face. He muttered, "Forgot my wallet," grabbed it off of the counter, and then hastily retreated. Turning back to Brian, I noticed the shit eating grin on his face. How could I not? I laughed. "You are a naughty, naughty boy…"

Brian chuckled. His chuckle soon became a moan as I deepthroated his cock once more.

TBC…(Work's been busy, which is making it hard to write, but I hope to post a little bit more in a few hours or so.)


	28. A Little Sex, Thinking, and Talking

I tried not to listen…well, I tried to try (as Bart Simpson would say), but I was too curious. Shortly after I'd finished blowing Brian, we'd fucked slow, delicious torture slow…

I'd quickly divested myself of my clothing and pulled Brian down to my fluffy white bearskin rug (next to the chaise) and pushed him onto his hands and knees. Then I'd grabbed my freestanding full-length mirror from the bedroom area and set it in front of the rug (We usually faced each other when we were fucking, either with me on top and his legs on my shoulders or him riding me, and I found myself reticent to change that pattern. I needed to see the expression on his face and in his eyes as I fucked him, when he came. Yet…I wanted to my cock to be buried as deeply as possible, hence the mirror). Finally, back behind him, I'd half-whispered, half-moaned, "Put your chest on the floor." He'd eagerly complied. Seconds later, I was balls deep in Brian's ass. I held onto his hips tight and fucked him slow, God, so slowly. Just remembering had my cock achingly hard. Brian'd pushed back on every thrust, but not to quicken the pace, just wanting my cock deeper inside him. Seeing him like this, us like this…it took everything in me not to cum immediately, to last as long as I did… I watched my cock slide in and out of Brian's ass…and gazed at him…he was so beautiful…all spread out…writhing against me…sweat glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows, which made his skin look more golden and brought out the red and blond highlights in his hair… And fuck, the way he looked at me (in the mirror). He raked his heavy-lidded eyes over my body and licked his lips…he closed his eyes tight and swallowed hard every time I grazed his prostate…and sometimes…he got this sort of surprised look on his face…his eyes widening a little and, in them, vulnerability…as though he were scared and stunned but irresistibly drawn…at these times, his eyes glistened. It was like…like…he'd seen something inconceivably beautiful and that…_that_ made my chest ache painfully…caused me to struggle to swallow back tears.

Deep breath…okay, so, as I said before the long meditation on our fucking, shortly after I'd finished blowing Brian, we'd fucked slow. And shortly after _that_, still naked (I had thrown on a pair of shorts, just in case Ethan came back early), Brian had holed himself up in the bathroom with his cell phone. Again, like I said before, I tried not to listen…well, I tried to try, but I was too curious. First he called Blake. Asking whether he could borrow some money…promising that he'd pay it back, and soon. Then he called Manny asking the same thing…promising the same thing…even offering to work at the diner for a while in exchange. But apparently, they were both strapped (at least for that kind of money) and Manny had enough regular help. From Brian's response, it seemed that Blake offered to ask Ted, but Brian told him not to: "No, don't do that. It would be weird."

I tried not to be hurt that Brian hadn't just asked me. I mean, I already understood why he needed the money, and I had it to give. I tried not to be hurt by the disappointment, the desolation, in his voice. Was he so desperate to avoid asking me? I would have offered if I thought that would be any better, but I knew it wouldn't.

I sighed and walked back into the part of the loft where I painted. I knew that accepting a place to stay…meals…and lunch money was different from accepting a thousand dollars to 'buy himself' from his mother. I knew that whatever else he would let me give him that that would be a particularly hard pill to swallow (because, in effect, I would be buying him). But…still. I was the last person who would judge him. I loved him. I didn't just love him; I was crazy in love with him. Maybe I should have been touched. Touched that he wanted (so much) to keep me as far from his mom and her fucked up life as possible. And I kind of was. And I understood. I did. But still…it hurt. I wanted Brian to know that we were in "this" together. _This_ being not just this situation, but life in general. Course, whatever we might feel, we hadn't known each other too long.

I was deep in this contemplation when my eyes lighted on the painting I had done of Brian. Suddenly, unexpectedly, I smiled. I headed back toward the bedroom area (running, I was so excited). Brian was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Brian turned when he heard me approach. He looked miserable. I crawled onto the bed next to him and then…then I lied. I lied my ass off. I said, "So my agent just called. He's eager for me to exhibit the painting I did of you in my next show."

Brian smiled a little. "Really?" I kind of melted (seeing him so pleasantly surprised…but I didn't really understand it; Brian knew that he had an incredible body. He knew that he was beautiful, or he should, by now. I told him often enough).

"Yup." My agent had said as much at the dinner party, so that part wasn't _really_ a lie… "I would never sell it; the painting is yours (Brian's eyes widened…why was he surprised? I painted it for him), but if you don't mind me exhibiting it, that would definitely enhance my profitability as an artist… so for liability reasons, he thinks we should give you a sitting fee…"

"A sitting fee?"

I nodded. "You know, for posing."

"Oh." He looked thoughtful. I smiled and tried to appear lighthearted…trying to telepathically send him messages… "It's just a legal thing…my agent's idea… completely unrelated to your sudden need for money…"

Then finally, finally, he said, and slowly, "Well if your agent thinks it's necessary…ok."

It took everything in me not to jump up and do a happy dance (or smile so brightly I blinded Brian). As evenly as I could manage, I replied, "He was thinking fifteen hundred."

Brian's eyes widened to the size of saucers, and he exclaimed, "Fifteen hundred?"

I nodded and lied my ass off. "Yeah, that's the industry standard."

I didn't actually know what the industry standard was…I'd never had anyone pose for me, never before Brian, but I couldn't make it exactly what he needed, or he might get suspicious.

"Oh." After a pause, he added, "Ok."

TBC…


	29. Jealousy and Humiliation

I came out of the bedroom area (I'd showered while Justin was starting dinner) to discover that Ethan had returned. Joy. And he had company. The guy looked about my age. He was…alright. Big sea green eyes and longish sandy brown hair (it reached his shoulders). He had a decent ass, though, I noted with pride, nowhere near as rounded as Justin's, and, from what I could tell, a better-than-average cock, though, again, not as big as Justin's (or mine for that matter). If I hadn't met Justin, and I was a manwhore, I would probably have let him suck me off (his lips were the best thing about him, though they weren't quite as plump as Justin's). Long story short (yeah, I know, too late), Justin exceeded this kid in every imaginable way, though he was hardly a troll.

I'd actually put some clothes on after showering. Some. A pair of jeans, and nothing else. I smirked. Ethan rolled his eyes, but Justin and the kid were eying me hungrily. After a shiver and a shake of his head, Justin asked Ethan, his voice a delicious purr (I hoped, because the few droplets of water rolling down my chest had caused a reaction), "So…is this your boyfriend?"

"No. No. This my mentee, Doug. Doug, this is Justin, one of my oldest friends and, uh (a sigh and another eye roll), that…that's Brian." Turning back to Justin, he continued, "Doug's a freshman at PIFA. He's a violinist, too. I thought I'd bring him over for dinner. I hope you don't mind."

Justin smiled warmly. "The more the merrier." His eyes sparkled. According to my health teacher, that meant that Justin was still aroused. I fucking loved the effect I had on him. Then he tossed some vegetables he'd chopped into the pot on the stove and began stirring its contents.

Doug stepped a little closer to Justin and said, "Ethan tells me you're an artist."

Lightly, quickly, Justin replied, "Yup. A painter." He wasn't even looking at the kid.

Doug glanced over at me and then back at Justin. He licked his lips. "Umm…is Brian an artist, too? Are you mentoring him, like Ethan's mentoring me?"

This time Justin looked at Doug, though he was still stirring, and chuckled. "Brian? He's not my mentee. He's my boyfriend." He smiled at me and then turned back to the pot.

Doug responded softly, "Oh." He seemed deflated. Glancing at me and rubbing his legs, he asked, "So…uh…do you have an open relationship?"

I quirked an eyebrow, and Justin stopped stirring. In fact, he put the spoon on the little spoonholder thing (for a man with so few furnishings, he had every conceivable kitchen gadget) and turned the burner down. Then he spun around slowly, crossing his arms.

Doug was still looking at me. "I'm from a tiny town in Wisconsin, so, you know, I don't know much about how gay guys are in bigger cities on the East Coast, but Ethan was telling me that a lot of them are in open relationships. You know…they have sex with other people, but they have rules, like no kissing or whatever."

I walked up to Justin, uncrossed his arms, turned and leaned against him, and slid his hands around my waist. "Not us. You'll have to find another beautiful blond."

Doug turned red, but not in embarrassment. This became clear when he raked his eyes over my half-naked, still damp body and licked his lips. "Actually…I'm not really into blonds...or, uh, older guys."

I shrugged. "Your loss."

I couldn't help but smirk a little when I glanced up at Justin. He was glaring at Ethan. Ethan grinned impishly and shrugged. I'd never seen Justin jealous before. And I fucking loved it. My smirk turned into a shit-eating grin when Justin started nibbling on my ear. But when he began licking and sucking on my neck, I couldn't stop myself from moaning softly. I almost forgot we had company. But Justin hadn't. Far from it. He was staring at Ethan the entire time. This wicked streak was a surprise, but a pleasant one, one that was making my dick even harder. Then, he spun me around, thrusting his hands in my hair and catching my lips with his own. He pressed them gently against mine and nudged my nose, but then he mmm-ed, pulled me closer, and plunged his tongue into my mouth. I slid my hands over his ass and thrust my tongue into his. Justin fisted my hair and I squeezed and clawed Justin's ass. After a couple minutes of frantic, ferocious kissing, he pushed me away (not hard), spun me around, and slapped my ass. I could hear him panting. I wiped my mouth and smiled. I felt hot all over. Justin asked cheerfully, "Would you mind setting the table, Brian? I need to finish the stew."

"Not at all." Especially not after Justin stepped closer, nuzzling my neck and placing a gentle kiss on my temple.

When I went to the cupboard to grab the plates, I noticed that Justin was smiling at Ethan, a million-watt smile, while Ethan was glowering. This game had definitely changed. But I didn't mind. Not one bit.

******************

Ten minutes after driving the point home, for Doug and Ethan, that Brian was mine (yes, I could be extremely petty), we were sitting at the table eating the stew I'd made.

Ethan asked, "So…where did you and Justin meet?"

I sighed, but forced myself to smile. With every new person came the same questions. I actually liked our story, but telling it always made Brian tense and insecure.

I relaxed a little when Brian simply quirked an eyebrow and countered, "Where did _you_ and Justin meet?"

But I stiffened again a moment later. Fuck. The story of how Ethan and I met was…unflattering to say the least. Brian was hardly thrilled with what he'd already learned of my sexual history. Ethan replied with a smile, "Orientation. First day. I went to take a piss and heard moaning. I opened the stall door to find some guy sucking Justin's dick."

I smiled and blushed a little. I explained, "I was a horny 18-year-old, and he had nice lips."

Ethan said, "The guy was so embarrassed. He turned bright red and ran out. Justin just sighed and pulled his pants up. Then he smiled and introduced himself. We've been friends ever since."

I cast Brian an oblique glance. I couldn't even look at him. But I laughed when Brian asked, his voice a sexy drawl, "You didn't finish where the guy left off? That's what I did. Tsk tsk. Cock blocking isn't nice. Especially when you have no plans to finish the job."

Ethan scowled, and Doug gaped.

I smiled, suppressing a giggle. "Brian actually told the guy who was sucking my cock to fuck off. Then he asked me to take him home. Promised to rock my world." I reached over and grabbed Brian's hand. Brian threaded our fingers together. "He did, too."

Ethan narrowed his eyes. Not a good sign. Then he asked, his voice a hiss, "Brian, how old are you?"

"17."

Doug piped up, a little too cheerily for my liking, "Maybe you should be doing what Justin was doing at your age."

I frowned and fidgeted uncomfortably. I wanted Brian all to myself, but I felt bad tying him down. He was beautiful and so young. And I was his first. If our relationship progressed the way I hoped it would, I'd be the only man who ever fucked Brian. The very idea made me so happy I could have floated out of the room, but so guilty, too. The thought of Brian even kissing someone else made me nauseous, but, at the same time, I wondered whether his being so inexperienced was unfair. A romantic Brian might be. But he was also a man. A man at his sexual peak.

Brian just blinked. "You don't know anything about Justin. Or me."

My heart soared. That is, until Ethan narrowed his eyes and, his voice a hiss, asked, "You're 17?"

Then the phone rang. I stupidly hoped that it would prevent Ethan from pursuing this line of questioning. Ethan grabbed it (it was on a table a couple of feet from his chair). "Hello." I stiffened when Ethan smiled brightly (that was a very bad sign…Ethan wasn't a big smiler) and handed me the phone. "It's Brian's vice-principal. She wants to speak to Brian's guardian."

I closed my eyes and sighed. I said (into the phone), "Could you hold on for a minute, Mrs. Price?"

Brian pulled his hand away from mine quickly, as though he'd been burned. Brian opened his mouth to speak, but he never uttered word one. He didn't have a chance. Someone was knocking, no pounding, on the door. I just sat there dumbly, looking over at the door and covering the receiver with my hand. Doug offered brightly, "I'll get it."

Ethan prodded, his eyes still narrowed and his voice dripping with amusement, "You were saying, Brian?"

Brian opened his mouth to answer, but, again, Brian was interrupted. This time by Doug, who'd turned to face us and was saying, a look of disgust on his face, "This, uh, lady says she's here to see Brian. She claims to be his mother."

I swallowed hard and glanced over at Brian. He just sat there staring, as though he were catatonic. His mother was standing in the hall, wearing a black leather skirt, fishnets, and a red halter top, her hand on her hip. "Where's my money?"

The trifecta of humiliation.

TBC…(later tonight)


	30. Fallout, Part 1

Everyone was talking, but I couldn't understand any of the words being spoken. They whirled together and then faded into a dull roar. My stomach turned, and then the world started spinning. The room, and everything in it, spun so fast and so hard that I could feel it whooshing inside me. The nausea rose up then, and my skin flushed, from head to toe. An unpleasant tingle coursed through every limb, pushing down to my fingers and toes and up to the hairs on my skin. A wave of cold washed through me. My skin suddenly felt so clammy. I shut my eyes tight and swallowed hard, inwardly pleading, begging my body to get ahold of itself (The last time I'd felt like this was in 5th grade when my teacher invited an ex-drug addict to speak. He'd pushed a handkerchief up one side of his nose and pulled it out the other. I'd actually fainted. It took me years to live that down).

Just when I thought I was going to lose consciousness, I felt warm hands on my neck. Then a soft kiss was pressed to my temple. The dizziness started to fade, pushing down and out of me, and my stomach righted itself. I tentatively opened my eyes. The world had stopped spinning, and I could hear individual voices again. Justin was running his fingers through my hair (damp now from the near fainting) as he spoke to my vice-principal.

"Actually, that would be great. Thanks for thinking of me. When is it, again? I don't think I have anything planned for that week. But I mean, I can probably move things around if I do. Yeah, just email me her contact information, and I'll call to confirm. Great. Bye."

Justin leaned down then and whispered in my ear, "You take French? Somehow I pegged you as more of the Spanish type."

I slid around in my chair and looked up. "Yeah, why?"

"Mrs. Price just invited me to be a chaperone on your trip to Paris."

"I wasn't going to go."

"You have to. That's not an experience you should miss. And I haven't been in a while. It'd be fun."

For the last couple…few minutes (I'd lost all conception of time), I'd been oblivious to anything but me and Justin. But a strident voice brought everything else to my awareness. "Hey…I gotta get to work. Where's my money?"

Doug was still standing by the door, staring at me, and Ethan was still sitting at the table, grinning like the Cheshire cat. I frowned and rose. Once I was on my feet, I paused a second (to make sure I'd fully regained my balance). Justin kissed me on the cheek and then called, "Hey, your food's getting cold, Doug."

Doug took the hint and scurried back to the table. I walked to the door and then through it, closing it (most of the way) behind me. I turned and pulled the wad of bills Justin had given me out of my pocket. I slipped five back in and then wheeled around and shoved the other ten into her hand.

"We're done now, right? I'll be by tomorrow for my things, but then, I'll be out of your life, and you'll be out of mine."

My mom took (and pocketed) the money. Then she looked down. "He…he's good to you, right?"

"What?"

"That guy…Justin…he's good to you, right?"

I was stunned. "I…yeah, mom, he is." My voice broke on "mom."

She nodded a few times, still not looking at me. Then she turned slowly and left. She didn't even wait for the elevator. Instead, she took the stairs. I stood there, listening to her heels clicking until the sounds faded into silence. My heart clenched then. I dropped my head and sniffed.

I wiped away the few tears that had escaped and was about to turn around when I felt hands on me. Hesitant at first, Justin slid his hands gently over my shoulders, but then he squeezed hard. I was torn. Part of me wanted to follow my mom down the stairs and away. Far away. Far away from Ethan and Doug and Justin. Far away from the jibes about my age and my low-class mother, jibes that were sure to come. Far away from the feelings of inadequacy Justin's friends always seemed to stir up in me. Even if my mom wouldn't take me back, I could stay with Blake. I wouldn't be happy, but I would be comfortable. Back where I belonged. The other part of me ached at the thought of being separated from Justin…but I just wasn't sure I had the self-esteem for all of this. Self-esteem had never really been a problem for me. I'd long since gotten past the desire to make friends…to fit in. But…being with Justin brought out every insecurity I'd ever had.

Without turning around, I rasped, "You should be with someone like Ethan."

"What?"

"You're talented, successful, rich…and he's an accomplished violinist, isn't he?"

"Yeah. So?"

"I'm not…I'm not good enough."

"That's not true, Brian."

I swung around, tears still glistening in my eyes, though I was fighting to push them down.

"It _is_ true. I'm not good enough for you. Not even close."

Justin reached for my hand, but I stepped back.

"Brian…" Justin sighed. Then he continued, "Accomplishments are easy. Given enough time and effort, you can achieve anything. But this…what we share…it's not something you can earn…something you can acquire. It just is. Or isn't. You can work hard to keep it once it's yours, but you can't manufacture it. You can't just grab some guy and decide you're going to be madly in love with each other. Love doesn't work that way."

Justin moved closer to me, slowly. As if he was afraid I'd bolt. I almost did. Then he took me into his arms and added, in a whisper, "And love, in love love, that's everything. Everything. You're everything, Brian."

I buried my face in his neck. I wanted so much to believe that. To believe that I was to Justin what he was to me.

TBC…


	31. Fallout, Part 2

I sighed. "We should go back in. Wouldn't want to keep your company waiting."

"I can ask them to go."

"No." A chill passed through me then. My skin suddenly felt so clammy. "Seriously. That would make a crappy situation even crappier."

Justin swallowed hard. But then he slipped his hand into mine and threaded our fingers together. "Okay." He smiled.

I let him hold my hand for a minute. We just kind of stared at each other, not speaking. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. In fact, I was kind of absorbing Justin…the look in his eyes, his smile, the warmth of his hand in mine. It was kind of stupid, no, not kind of. Incredibly stupid … but I felt like I was a plant taking in sunlight. Drawing strength from it. I squeezed Justin's hand and then pulled mine away and strode purposefully through the door.

Doug couldn't meet my eyes. Apparently, he was embarrassed on my behalf. And Ethan was still smiling that smug smile of his. What I wouldn't have given to punch him then. But … there were better ways to get even. I knew I'd have plenty of opportunities over the next couple of weeks, and I was going to take every one. Make him regret inviting himself to stay and mocking me at every turn. Instead, I emptied my expression and said coolly, "So…now you know. I'm in high school, I take French, and my mom's a hooker. Questions? Comments?"

That shocked everyone. I guess no one expected me to say it out like that. Not even Justin. He'd followed me in and was standing next to me when I made my little statement. Justin sat down and pulled me into the chair next to him. He smiled brightly. Then he chirped up, "I have a question."

I looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. I was so not expecting him to be the one ask questions.

"What's your French name?"

I huffed a laugh. "What?"

"Your French name. You know, what they call you in French class."

I shook my head. I looked down and mumbled, "Oh, um, Alexandre."

Justin smiled even brighter then. "I like that. It suits you. Means protector of men, I think. Did you choose it?"

"No … my teacher, Mrs. Wolfe, picked names for us."

Doug smiled, too. "It works with that black eye. What happened?"

Justin's eyes got extra sparkly then, and he slid his hand to my leg, squeezing it gently but then leaving it there. "I can't be sure because Brian wouldn't say, but I think he got it defending our love."

Doug kind of giggled then. I had to bite back one of my own. Justin had sounded so cheesy when he said 'our love.'

Ethan, who had been gaping at the three of us since Justin first asked his question and was now all red in the face, burst out, "Oh my fucking God! Why don't you both get down on your knees and start licking his feet?"

I couldn't hold the laughter back anymore, but Justin just blinked. Then he hissed, "What's your problem?"

"Uh … I don't know … you're dating a kid, a child, whose mother's a whore."

"You're one to talk."

Ethan furrowed his brow. "What the hell?"

"I remember a time not so long ago when you were slinging it on street corners."

Doug's eyes widened. "You were a hustler?"

Ethan actually shouted, "NO! I most certainly was not!"

Justin shrugged. "Hustler…street musician…tomayto…tomahto…"

"Oh my fucking God! Playing the violin for donations is NOT the same as selling my ass…"

Justin grinned. "Whatever you say…"

Ethan's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head.

Justin licked his lips. Then he purred, "Tell me, Ethan…how cheap did you feel when you played music hall quality pieces in exchange for pennies or a quarter…"

Ethan tossed a roll at Justin and muttered, "Asshole."

"I'm just saying is all …"

Ethan laughed then. "You are _such_ a fucking asshole!"

"An asshole who stood in the cold clapping for your sorry ass and making a big show of putting a five dollar bill in your violin case … how many times? Just to try to get you more 'donations.'"

Ethan scoffed, "It's not like you ever let me keep it!"

"Hey, that was my beer money…"

Doug looked between Justin and Ethan a couple of times and then asked, "You went to school together?"

Justin nodded. "We were roommates in college."

Doug hesitated for a moment, but then asked, "So did you guys ever…"

Justin's eyes widened. "What? Fuck?"

Doug turned red, but nodded.

Justin smiled and shook his head frantically. "Hell no!"

Ethan complained, "Hey!"

"What? After one week of living with you that was _never_ gonna happen!"

Justin looked over at me, wrinkled his nose cutely, and explained, "Dirty underwear all over the place…and little curly brown hairs everywhere. On the sink, in the toilet, all around _the rim_ of the toilet…buried in the soap." Justin shuddered. "Disgusting!"

I slid my hand over Justin's, which was still on my leg, and threaded our fingers together.

"You're one to talk! Tied off condoms littering the floor…and those nasty sheets of yours…you washed them like once a month!"

"I was too busy being brilliant to worry about such mundane things…"

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You had plenty of time to drink and fuck."

"It's all a matter of priorities…You're just pissed cause you didn't get half as much ass."

I could have lived without hearing about how many guys Justin had fucked in college, but I was enjoying Justin's mockery of Ethan too much to care at the moment.

"I got plenty."

"Is that why I heard you jerking off so often in the middle of the night … that half choking … 'Oh! Oh!' I can't even tell you how many times it woke me up … Just the thought …" Justin shuddered again. Even more than he had about Ethan's shedding.

Ethan's face was bright red now, brighter than it had been when Justin and Doug were fawning over me, and his eyes were black. He muttered, "I'm so gonna get you for this. You just wait."

Justin smiled. "Bring it … any time … any place."

I half expected them to start scrapping right there. Instead, Ethan pulled his wallet out. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He searched through it for a minute before finding what he was looking for … a picture … of Justin … with dreadlocks!

Now it was Justin's turn to blush. He covered his eyes with his free hand while Doug and I gaped at the picture. He had shoulder-length hair and long, thin dreads.

Ethan smiled smugly and explained, "Justin loved Soul Asylum."

Doug and I looked at each other in confusion and then shrugged. Apparently, he'd never heard of them, either.

"Justin thought David Pirner was sooo hot … so one year he decided he just had to have dreads … he was always twisting and knotting his hair … refusing to brush it. And then the next year, he had to shave it all off."

It looked a little weird … but still. "You looked hot."

Justin separated two of his fingers, peeking at me through his hand. He was still all red. "You think?"

I nodded. The dreads were super thin. I thought they looked kind of cool.

A second later Justin's fingers were in my hair and his tongue in my mouth. When we broke apart, all breathless and panting, Justin whispered, "You so rock …"

TBC…


	32. Bedtime

**Justin's POV**

Brian was taking a shower. I was lying in bed naked. Just kind of waiting for Brian. At any other time, I would have joined him. But Brian needed time to recoup. After his mother's showing up, his vice-principal's calling, and all the discussion about Brian's age, despite my being able to turn the tide of the conversation…well, Brian was probably still off kilter, as my mom would call it. I would never admit to having noticed this (it would kill Brian), but, at one point, he was on the verge of losing consciousness. I hoped he hadn't noticed my panic at that. It took everything in me to act normal, to act relaxed, as I lightly massaged his neck, kissed his temple, and then ran my fingers through his hair. His skin had been so cool, even clammy, at the time, yet his hair was damp with sweat. The hallmarks of dizziness and nausea.

The cot on which Ethan was sleeping creaked. And kept creaking. Not fast or rhythmically like he was masturbating ... and no half-choking "Oh! Oh!" More like he was tossing and turning. I was kind of glad that he was uncomfortable. He'd been an incredible ass from the moment he showed up. We were friends, and I doubted anything would change that, but … I didn't like how he'd tried to make Brian feel bad about himself and us. And I was extraordinarily annoyed at his bringing that little punk Doug over hoping he would be able to seduce Brian. Ethan was sooo gonna get it for that. And yes, I was keenly aware, from the moment I realized Doug was hoping Brian would fuck him to this, of just how jealous I was. I'd always been a little bit of a jealous person, but nothing like I was where Brian was concerned. I was one of the least violent people one could ever meet, but I'd wanted to punch that smirking twirp, with his goofy smile, blushing, and eyes half-lidded with desire for my boyfriend. Ethan, too. Him and his smirk. I knew Brian had plans to be more of an exhibitionist in our 'love making' in front of Ethan. I'd planned to let Brian do what he wanted without fueling the fire, but now … now I kind of wanted to punish Ethan, too. Ethan and I had played pranks on each other a lot over the years, getting even for one thing or another … but Ethan had crossed a line. In the next two weeks, I was going to make him regret it. I wasn't stupid. Ethan would probably up the ante, too, but I'd always been better at this game. I had absolute confidence that I would win this one.

For example…once during second year, one of Ethan's dates (Ethan and the guy hadn't yet fucked) hit on me at a party, and I, not realizing who he was, proceeded to fuck him in a bathroom before sending him on his merry way back to Ethan. I didn't realize my mistake until I saw him in Ethan's bed the next morning. I wasn't even the one who revealed the indiscretion. It was Tony, Tom, Tim, something with a T, who raked his eyes over my naked body, particularly my erect cock (I'd just woken up). Then, believing Ethan was still asleep (I hope), he suggested that we recreate our previous bathroom foray. Ethan kicked the guy out naked (he wouldn't give the guy his clothes back, even though he pounded on the door demanding them) and later held an impromptu party the night before one of my big exams. The libraries were all closed then, so I spent the night with the headphones on, trying to study and pushing people off my bed. The fact that I was in it did nothing to deter people from trying to fuck on it.

But I got him back, and how. I used my new skills in graphic design to create a Web page with Ethan's head on the body of an even pastier, less well-endowed guy jerking off (I made like 5 pictures and ran them on a loop). When the visitor rolled his or her mouse over the picture, heart bubbles popped up containing pictures of me looking all hot (and Macy Gray's I Try playing in the background). I almost used pictures of a guy Ethan was trying to date … fuck whatever, but I felt too bad. In the end, I might as well have. That guy wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot-pole after seeing . Ethan was so embarrassed and pissed! He skipped classes for a week and wouldn't leave our dorm room (or answer the door or phone). Just thinking about it still made me smile.

When I heard Brian turn off the water, I lit a few candles (so Ethan would get a show) and lay back on the bed. Then I started jerking off slow. By the time Brian emerged, all warm and damp from the shower, and naked, I was as hard as a rock. I removed my hand and sat up so that I was leaning on my arms. I purred, "Hey…"

Brian smiled softly and replied, "Hey."

**Brian's POV**

I approached the bed slowly. Justin was anything but when I reached it. He grabbed me and flipped me on my back. I groaned, "I want to suck your dick."

Justin flashed me one his million-watt smiles and purred, "You still can." Then he straddled me and crawled up my body until the tip of his cock was so close to my lips that I was able to lick the precum off. Justin mmm-ed. Then he giggled and purred, "Open up and say ahh…"

I smiled at that, but then I did as he asked, opening my mouth wide. As Justin fed me his cock, I slid my hands to his ass. He had such an incredible ass. Smooth and firm, but rounded. Justin thrust his cock slowly in and out of my mouth as I sucked and licked and ran my fingers gently over his ass. Then out of the blue, Justin grabbed one of my hands and lifted it to his lips. Next thing I knew, he slipped two of my fingers into his mouth and started licking and sucking on them. When they were good and wet, he pulled them out of his mouth and replaced my hand (pushing it back toward his ass). Suddenly I couldn't breathe. Did he want me to … ?

In answer to my silent question, one that he must have been able to read in my eyes, Justin whispered, "Go ahead."

Justin thrust even more slowly as I traced circles around and over his hole. Then he was panting and urging me on. "Do it."

My heart actually stopped as I pushed one finger inside him and then two. Then I was fucking him with my fingers, staring at his face as I explored, waiting for his eyes to flutter closed, which would show me I'd found his prostate. A few more finger thrusts and there … Justin's eyes fluttered closed, and he moaned … one of those moans that seem irrepressible … automatic … one of those that echo in the air and through the person's body. Then he was cursing and begging, "Fuck. Oh fuck. Don't stop." I continued to suck and lick, but mostly I was massaging his prostate with both fingers and watching Justin's face. His mouth was open, though his eyes were still closed, and his head was thrown back. When he licked his lips and then bit his lower one, I was lost. I used my free hand to push Justin back. He pulled his cock out of my mouth and opened his eyes. He was flushed and looked a little confused. Until I grabbed him by the neck and pulled him down. I kissed him so deep, so hungrily. Justin slid his hands off the bed and into my hair, pulling me closer and deepening the kiss. A couple minutes into the kiss, Justin broke away, breathless and even more flushed. Then he reached into his bedside table for a condom. But he didn't put it on his dick. He put it on mine. I froze. Just watching in shock as he slicked my sheathed cock with lube … and then impaled himself on it.

I moaned an animal moan when my cock was fully buried. Then I breathed, "So … tight …"

Justin leaned down and rasped, "I almost never bottom."

Hearing that, I could have cum right then. I didn't. But only because I started thinking about my mom and Ted. Then I remembered that Ethan was in the next room, probably watching us. I looked over at the candles. Justin had lit them, something he hadn't done since our first night. My chest ached so much then. Justin must have known that with my self-esteem's taking a beating that night I'd need to show off.

As touched as I was that Justin was willing to let me fuck him (wanted me to fuck him), and with an audience (God … no one thought so much about my needs and wants as Justin did … not even Manny), this moment was ours, and ours alone.

I blew out the candles.

TBC…


	33. Rodents

Ethan was hyper as fuck this not-so-fine morning. He kind of reminded me of Stan, a baby mouse that lived under the radiator in my room for a while two years ago. I didn't normally name mice, or let them live if I saw any (I'd call the exterminator; it was the only service the landlord provided), but Stan was small and kind of dumb. He reminded me of that Simpsons episode where the school calls Child Protective Services on Marge and Homer. One of the social workers sees a "stupid baby" sign on Maggie (though it was originally stuck to Lisa's back) and says, "Stupid babies need the most attention." For the first year after I saw that episode, I remembered that line wrong, thinking it was "Stupid babies need the most love," and that was the year Stan appeared. Every time I looked at him, with his little beady eyes and tiny sniffing nose, that misquoted line popped into my head, and I just couldn't bring myself to get rid of him. In fact, I almost got him a cage and kept him as a pet (he seemed incapable of taking care of himself). He was in my room, where there was no food, and, try as I might, I couldn't get him to go back into the kitchen. I left my door open all the time. He just didn't get it. And I was pretty sure he was starving. In the end, reason (mostly) prevailed. I didn't get him a cage, but I didn't call the exterminator, either. All he did besides sleep under the radiator was run between the radiator and my desk and back, real fast, like he was hopped up on coke or something. In fact, though I would never, ever, tell anyone, I got used to his being around … and … sometimes I even talked to him. He did finally make it to the kitchen one day (a few months after I first saw him in my room), and, shortly after that, he disappeared altogether. For the first few months after he disappeared, I actually missed the little guy. God … I sounded like Marge (She calls Bart her "special little guy").

That's who Ethan reminded me of all morning. He was everywhere and going there fast. Oh and making tons of noise doing it. Justin and I hadn't been alone for two seconds, not even when we were in the bedroom area. In fact, this not-so-fine morning, the fucker woke us up cooking breakfast. He didn't need pots for that, but he was banging them anyway. I had to say, Stan was _way_ cooler and much, much less annoying.

Justin and I finally managed to get some privacy in the bathroom (we decided to take a shower together since we didn't have to be anywhere, and that's about the only place we figured we could get some peace). We were wrong.

I was just sliding my mouth over Justin's cock, when Ethan barged in. I'd spent the first two minutes of our shower sudsing Justin's cock into a throbbing erection (I couldn't actually feel the throbbing, but already I knew the telltale signs. Justin was panting, his mouth was open slightly, and he'd let his eyes flutter closed and then half-open again). After a quick rinse, I was on my knees. A few seconds after that, Ethan strode in, asking, "Mind if I take a piss? I drank _way_ too much coffee."

I pulled back, but didn't move. Justin groaned, "Can't it wait?"

"Nope."

Justin sighed. Heavily. "Then piss outside."

Ethan crossed his arms and shook his head like a petulant two-year-old. "Nope."

Justin was _so_ annoyed. And an annoyed Justin was super hot (my dick, which had started to deflate with Ethan's entrance, was getting hard again).

Justin snapped, "Why the fuck not?"

"I'd really rather not be hassled by the cops again."

Justin hung his head and sighed. Then he snapped his head back up and hissed, "That was years ago, in Virginia Beach, during spring break, and you were hammered. You pissed _on_ the fucking police station; what did you expect?"

"Can't take any chances. Another run-in with the cops might blemish my reputation."

"Fucking Christ. Fine. Hurry. And you better just be pissing."

Suddenly determined to thwart Ethan (and his plot to prevent us from fucking, or at least to annoy the hell out of us), and still on my knees, I sucked on the head of Justin's cock. Justin moaned, probably half in surprise, and looking down at me … his skin flushed, biting his lower lip …

Fuck, he was … beautiful. I did the only thing I could do (to quell the sudden ache in my chest), I deepthroated his cock and swallowed hard when the tip entered my throat.

Justin let out a half-shout, half-moan then … and reached down to touch my face, cupping my cheek with his right hand and tracing his fingers lightly along my jaw, loosing a delicious shiver. I slid my hands to Justin's ass and started sucking his cock harder and faster.

"Ohhhh! Yeah! That's it!"

I stopped abruptly (fuck you very much, Captain Buzz Kill—that's right, it was Ethan who moaned). Justin brushed his hand across his face and sighed. But a moment later, his eyes brightened. He grabbed (and opened) a bottle of body wash, and when Ethan moaned again ("Fuck, yeah!"), Justin lifted his hand above the glass wall and squeezed the bottle. Hard. Got him right on the head (and the body wash was white, too).

I grinned. Justin giggled. And Ethan … he reached to touch the body wash, looked at his hand, and grimaced.

Then he smiled.

And flushed the toilet.

Justin bellowed, yes bellowed, "Mother fucker!" and turned off the water. Then he shook his fist (no lie) and yelled (to a retreating Ethan), "You are SOOO gonna get it!"

I had no doubt that he would. And I couldn't fucking wait.

TBC…


	34. Comestible

**Three weeks into the future…**

**Brian's POV**

I awoke with a start. Was I late for school? Had I forgotten to lock the door? I didn't know. All I could say was that I was overwhelmed, nearly overtaken, with a profound sense of unease.

Only then did it occur to me that I had no clue where I was.

First observation: I was sitting on a floor made of very hard wood. Harder than that in the loft. And unvarnished. In fact, the floor boards were gritty, covered in dust, dirt, and gravel, and loose in some places. I squinted through the half-light, trying to focus on other details, but they were few. I was in a room. A completely empty room. It had no furniture or decorations. Not even a scrap of paper on the floor. Just two doors (one was probably a closet) and a window.

I tried to stand. I didn't make it far. As soon as I pushed up on my hands, a sharp burning pain shot through my abdomen. I bit back a curse, closed my eyes, and rode out the waves of nausea that followed. When the pain devolved into a throbbing ache, one that I now realized had been there when I awoke, present but overshadowed by my intense unease, I pushed the jacket I was wearing aside (Justin's leather…brought a slight smile to my face…it smelled like his cologne) and lifted my shirt, a black wife beater. Very slowly.

I actually gasped.

I was covered in huge bruises.

And they were starting to turn brown.

Like I'd had them for a while. Maybe three or four days. Needless to say, I couldn't remember getting them.

I tried getting up differently, moving to a kneeling position first, a much less painful option, though it caused my breathing to come out in choking rasps. Unfortunately, the second I put weight on my right foot, my leg seared and crackled with pain. I yanked it back, throwing myself off balance and landing on my back. Oddly, that produced no additional pain. When the pain dulled to a throb, I repeated the attempt, but this time using my left foot to get me erect. Then I placed my hand on the nearest wall to balance myself and hopped over to the window. It was light out, but barely, from the look of the sky, just after dawn. I had to press my face to the glass and lower my head as far as I could just to see the street. I must have been 15 or 20 floors up. Where the fuck was I? I started a second time when I pulled away and saw my reflection in the glass. My face was smeared with blood.

I swallowed hard, spun around, and threw myself back against the wall, as if someone were looking for me. Why, I didn't know. I slid down the wall until I was sitting again, biting back a cry when my ass hit the floor and pain shot through my abdomen again.

Where was I? Why was my abdomen bruised and my foot (probably) broken? Why was I covered in blood? And where was Justin? _Justin_.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I racked my brain, but to no avail. I had no idea what had happened. Where Justin could be. The last thing I remembered was … was … Justin and I showering together. That was Saturday or Sunday. Saturday? No, Sunday. Yeah, Sunday. Ethan wasn't there then. He'd gone somewhere … to practice for some performance maybe …

_Soft smooth skin. Justin's belly. Wet and soapy hands … mine. I was washing Justin. I slid my pinky into his capacious belly button. Justin laughed and playfully batted my hand away. Then suddenly, he pushed me up against the shower wall. I shivered. The wall was ice cold. Justin leaned in slowly, so slowly. Gave me goosebumps. Then his lips found mine. Slippery lips tasting vaguely of soap. _

"_Comestible…" _

Stupid SAT word.

I meant to laugh, but the sound that came out was more of a gurgle. Something thick dripped down my chin and onto the floor. Blood.

I wiped my face with my hand and gritted my teeth. Preparing to stand up again. Again I kneeled, lurched up onto my left foot, and hopped, but this time to the other side of the room, to the wall with the two doors. I hopped faster. I needed to get down to the street and figure out where I was. Unfortunately, my foot caught the side of a raised floor board mid hop, sending both me and the floor board flying. I hit the bigger of the two doors (another pain shot through my abdomen), but I didn't land on my right foot and I was still standing. I counted that a victory. I turned around and leaned my back against the door, waiting for the pain to abate. Then I saw it. Something in the space underneath the floor, lying on fiberglass: a gun. A 9mm.

Fuck.

Had I brought that here? I didn't know, but I couldn't take any chances. I hopped closer to the gap and lowered myself through choking rasps (until I could reach the gun) and then back up. I checked the safety, shoved the gun into the back of my jeans, and hopped back and through the bigger of the two doors.

**Back to the present…**

**Justin's POV**

"Comestible…"

Brian rolled his eyes. "Why are we even doing this?"

"You need to take your SAT…"

"I don't see why. It's not like I'm planning to go to college."

I leaned closer to Brian, slowly, drew my tongue across his top lip, bit his lower lip (he started panting then), and thrust my tongue into his mouth. Brian threaded his fingers into my still dry hair, pulled me closer, and kissed me back. Hard and deep. And with a low growl that caused my cock to stir and then harden.

I reluctantly broke our kiss a few moments later, nudged his nose with mine, and breathed, "Comestible…"

"Uhhh…"

I kissed him chastely on the mouth by way of illustration. Sort of chastely … it was a lingering kiss (I didn't think I'd ever get tired of just feeling his soft but firm lips against mine).

"Edible."

I slid my hands down to his cock and squeezed. "Good boy." Brian grunted and closed his eyes.

In a breathy whisper, I said, "Ablution…"

"Um … washing?"

I let go (Brian groaned in complaint), dripped shower gel onto his cock, and then started to 'wash' his cock with both hands. Brian licked his lips.

Another breathy whisper (me). "Accelerate…"

Another grunt (Brian). "Move faster."

I smiled. "As you wish…" I squeezed his cock hard (still using both hands) and then slid them up and down his shaft, faster and faster.

"Uhnhhh…."

"Penetrate…"

Brian licked his lips again and swallowed hard. "Gain insight into … en-ter …" His voice actually cracked.

I slid one hand in between Brian's legs and pushed a finger inside him, all the while jerking him off, hard and fast, with the other.

"OH!"

I licked Brian's neck and breathed against his skin, "Regale…"

"Uh … I … don't …" Brian slid his arms around my waist.

I prompted, "I hope I'm doing it now, for you …," pushed my finger deeper inside him, and started sucking on his neck, right at the pulse point.

Brian dug his fingers into my skin.

I sucked on his neck harder and then started biting.

"Fuck, yes, yes …"

I pulled back and repeated softly, "Regale…"

"Uhnh…entertain with something … something…"

I pulled my hands away, dropped to my knees, and took Brian's cock into my mouth.

"… enormously enjoyable …"

I deepthroated him.

Brian let out an inhuman cry, threaded his fingers into my now bedraggled (thoroughly wet) hair, and started sliding his cock in and out, fucking my mouth. I relaxed and let him.

Maybe ten or fifteen seconds later, his cock exploded. Brian roared, "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

I stood up just in time to catch him. He literally fell into my arms. I slid my hands up his back and held him tight.

A few moments later, in a husky rasp, Brian said, "I guess studying SAT words isn't so bad …"

TBC…


	35. WTF?

**Back to the future….**

**Brian's POV**

The door opened onto a short hallway. I passed a small, dark room. I poked my head in. It was a bathroom. The walls were unfinished. Without the drywall and paint, it was a two by four skeleton. A brand-new unattached toilet sat in the middle of the room about a foot or two from a rectangular hole in the floor from which a 4-inch thick black pipe emerged and ran up to the ceiling.

I stepped back and continued down the hallway. A couple of feet past the bathroom, the hallway ended, opening onto a medium-sized room that was probably meant to hold a living room/dining room and kitchen. Half the floor was covered with the cheap thin tile used by slum lords and the Allegheny County Housing Authority and the other half the dirt, dust, and gravel I'd noticed in the bedroom. Quite a few ACHA buildings were like this. The two-year recession had led to deep budget cuts.

I opened the front door and hopped out. I nearly fell. My left foot caught on a body mid hop. Fortunately, before tumbling to the floor, I managed to catch myself on the far wall. I looked down. The hallway had no windows at the ends. The dawn sun, dim as it was, would have been kinder. The 40-watt light bulb illuminating the body I'd tripped on (and about twenty or thirty others) was buzzing and flickering and covered in so much grime and dirt that it cast an unflattering dark mustard yellow light. Every face looked jaundiced, and the owners' cold sores and abscesses stood out in greater relief.

The bodies didn't even look like bodies. More like piles of laundry. I was suddenly assailed by a fetid bouquet of odors. Of sweat (vinegar and nasty cheese), piss, and shit. I covered my nose and tried to push back the attendant wave of nausea. I barely managed to prevent myself from puking. I breathed as little as possible.

I hopped down the hallway, but more slowly, trying, but mostly failing, to dodge arms and legs. No one screamed or even moved when I landed squarely on a hand or a foot. I sighed. Heroin dealers probably manned every stairwell in this building during the day and most of the night. A minute later, the crunch of crushed glass verified my hypothesis. Empty vials.

**Justin's POV**

I awoke with a start. Someone was shining a bright light in my face. I muttered, "Wha? Sleepin. Leave me alone" and tried to roll over. But the someone shining the light in my face kicked me in the side. I groaned and opened my eyes. I looked up. Where was I?

I squinted and tilted my head, trying to see past the glare. To distinguish any details on the form looming over me in the darkness. It took all my concentration and a full minute of squinting to glimpse anything. Even then, all I saw was a glint.

I only figured out what that glint was when the form barked, "Up against the wall, dirt bag!"

Ah. One of PPD's finest. The glint must have been from his badge. I heard two loud clicks. Was he cocking his gun? That wrenched my consciousness very much into the present. I was suddenly wide awake and in a great deal of pain. My side ached, and my back was stiff. I knew I should stand up, do what the cop asked, but I couldn't move. I couldn't even speak.

"You know the drill. Up against the wall!"

The drill? I finally found my voice. It came out as a halting rasp. "Are you arresting me?"

"Get up on your feet, turn around, and put your hands on the wall! NOW!"

"What's the charge?"

The cop asked, "Are you resisting, dirt bag?" His voice was mocking, an almost gleeful hiss. I heard another set of clicks. The cop set the flashlight on the floor and holstered his gun. He grabbed my arm, pulled me to a standing position, and shoved me against the nearest wall. Then he yanked on my hair, grabbed a fistful, and shoved my face into the wall. Hard. Blood streamed down my face. I blinked a few times and tried to lift my hands up, to wipe away the blood, but the cop had grabbed both and was cuffing them behind my back.

"You are one sick fuck. Wasn't the shot in the head enough? Did you have to disembowel him?"

What?

"You're going away. For a looong time."

**Author's note** **(in response to some confused and upset reviews):** In My Beloved, Brian's mom is a crackhead and a hooker (who sells Brian's things, anything she can anyway, for booze or drugs) whose pimp/drug dealer knows about Justin, and she's shown really bad judgement in terms of dragging Brian into her world (she thinks Brian, too, should sell his body, and she's willing to extort money from Brian and Justin to give to her pimp/drug dealer). Drug dealers and pimps customarily administer beatings and murder people (as do 'regular folk' on occasion), so while I know that the last two chapters have been shocking, I don't think they are too much of a stretch for this story. I probably should have continued the narrative chronologically rather than jumping around...I wanted to shock you all...I thought this way would be more 'exciting.' I'm sorry if I chose wrong.


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